


In Spite of Everything

by peachchild



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachchild/pseuds/peachchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has rejected his father's way of life so that he can become his own person. With no money and few friends, he moves in with Morgana's friend Merlin, who is cheerful and sweet and attentive, and with whom Arthur easily finds himself falling in love. Merlin seems equally smitten, but seems to have his own ideas about what a relationship is and should mean, and Arthur struggles to balance wanting to be with Merlin and wanting to live his life as he has always dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One thing Arthur knows well about Morgana, having grown up with her, is that she will be helpful, to a point, about anything, but will make sure he knows all of her feelings about it in the process.

So he’s not particularly surprised when she decides to spend the entire day in which they’re packing up Arthur’s flat in telling him how stupid she thinks he is for moving out of it.

“Honestly, this is the most gorgeous place on this side of London,” she scolds, even as she stacks his books, on their sides per his instruction, into a large cardboard box. “You’ll never find something this good this close to campus.”

Arthur sighs. “I’m not looking for anything better, Morgana,” he tells her for the thousandth time. “I’m looking for something I can afford.”

“But a _flatmate_? Honestly, if there’s one thing I never expected you to do, it would be sharing your space with someone else.”

“You were the one who told me this guy would be a good fit for me,” Arthur points out. “I’m not concerned, Morgana, really. I’m just trying to make ends meet here. Working in a bookshop, even full-time, is not going to pay for the rent here.”

Morgana sits back on her high-tops, presses her lips together. “I wish I was as brave as you,” she admits quietly. “I could never - I’d be too afraid to do what you’re doing, as much as I want to.”

Arthur stands and steps over toward her, drops a kiss on her sleek, dark hair. “Any time you decide to, I’ll be here to help,” he promises.

Morgana smiles at him. “You’re carrying your books to the car,” she declares, and ducks out of the way when he swats at her.

***

Arthur is fond of wood floors.

They’re what sold him on the flat, when he and Morgana first came to see it. He’s always enjoyed the cold-toed run from bedroom to toilet, the slide of socks, the heavy, heady click of heels that just aren’t possible on carpet.

It reminds him of Christmas mornings, the thunder of running feet across the floors of his father’s large home, scoldings from housekeepers and nannies for being too loud. What Arthur remembers best is the way Morgana always poked her tongue out at them, defiant, and was never punished, because it was Christmas.

Wood floors make Arthur think of home. He signed the lease the next day.

He’s glad he’s never been a very materialistic person, because his room here is much smaller than his former room. He sold most of his furniture, and since much of it was designer, or custom-made, received good prices for it. He put that toward his savings, knowing there will be days when he needs rainy day money.

Merlin, who is not home yet, has left a sticky note on Arthur’s door, saying that the empty bookcase in the front room is for him to use as he likes, for which Arthur is grateful. His English Literature coursework involves quite a bit of reading. He organizes from highest priority to lowest priority, top to bottom. Highest priority is his favorite books and the ones he needs this term. Lowest priority is the books his father insisted he read.

His bedroom is easier. Clothes in closet, shoes lined up beneath them. Dresser for socks, pants, pajamas, running clothes. Top of dresser for cologne and cufflinks. Nightstand for alarm clock, lamp, mobile charger, planner, photo of him with Morgana. It’s plain, but he’s satisfied.

It takes him surprisingly little time to sort himself out. A quick trip to the grocer’s, which is blessedly, since he no longer has a car, across the street, equips him with pasta, rice, vegetables, bread, and fruit juice, enough to last him until he receives his first paycheck. He considers asking Merlin if there’s anything they can share, to save them both money. He’ll have to do that when Merlin gets back from lecture.

It’s only early afternoon, and Arthur is already fully moved-in. He’s not sure what to do now. He wishes he told the bookshop that he could work this afternoon, just so he had something more to do. Since he didn’t, he settles down to read ahead in some of his course books and wait for his flatmate to get home.

***

When Arthur first met Merlin, upon Morgana’s suggestion of her friend as a potential flatmate for him, he could only describe him as a firecracker. He was quick to spark, and quicker to flare up, and Arthur liked him immediately.

They sat at the kitchen counter after a tour of the flat, drinking coffee, and Arthur found Merlin’s bright eyes and wide smiles contagious.

“I’m not very neat,” he admitted right away, when Arthur said he keeps a clean house. “There’s a little of me everywhere, though I’m sure I can contain it, if you were to move in. But I am clean. I clean my dishes after I use them, clean the toilet and bath once a week.”

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Arthur offered. “And I tend to keep to myself, so I wouldn’t be in your hair too much.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Merlin waved him off. “I’m very hopeful we’ll be friends.” He paused. “As long as you’re not too much of a prat.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “Do I seem like I’m a prat at all?”

“Only a little,” Merlin teased. “You’re posh. You’ve got the potential for it.”

“Well, I’m trying to live a slightly less posh lifestyle, if that helps.”

“It does. And I’m the utter opposite of posh, so I can help you achieve that.” He poured out another cup of coffee for Arthur. “I’m from a rather small village, in the country. I can’t say I’m particularly well-acquainted with high society.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Arthur smiled into his cup. He set it down carefully in the ring he’d formed with it on his napkin. “So what happened to your last flatmate?”

“Will.” Merlin wrinkled his nose, but his relaxed, expressive face betrayed his affection. “We were mates from back home, grew up together. We decided going to university together was a great idea. I suppose university lifestyle wasn’t for him, though. He dropped out and went home.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

Arthur blinked. “Because he’s not getting a university education.”

“So?” Merlin shrugged. “Not everyone needs a degree in order to feel fulfilled, or even to find a job they enjoy. What does it matter if he’s not a university graduate?”

“I - Yes, that’s true, I suppose,” Arthur murmured, face hot. “Sorry. Part of my upper class background, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Merlin smiled. “But it’s alright. You’re only a bit of a prat.”

***

Merlin bursts through the door in a flurry of swinging backpack and jingling keys. “Hello, new flatmate!” He takes a moment to beam at him, toeing off his shoes. “I am in a rush, but I will be in less of a rush in a moment.” He runs into his room, slams the door, and leaves Arthur feeling rather like he missed something.

When he emerges again, it is with a book in hand and in his pajamas. He steps up onto the couch and folds himself up with his legs trapped beneath him, smiling at Arthur. “Mind if I join you?”

Arthur laughs lightly. “The rush was for pajamas.”

Merlin nods solemnly. “Yes. There are some days when they are an early requirement. Today is one of those days. Did you get settled in alright?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve just been doing some work for my courses.”

“Well, don’t mind me.” He settles in close to him. Arthur almost considers shifting away. “I have to read a hundred pages of this for tomorrow. Thank god it’s my night off.”

They fall silent as they turn to their work, but Arthur finds Merlin doesn’t stay still for long. He hums every once in a while, just one low tone, as if responding to something he read, or wiggles his feet so that they brush or press against Arthur’s thigh, or leans toward Arthur to read over his shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous,” Arthur says finally, after almost two hours of this, laughing at him when he stands up, turns in a circle like a dog getting comfortable and plops down again. “Can’t you sit still?”

Merlin makes a face at him. “No, then I’d be boring like you. Besides, I’ve read half of what I need to, and I have no further motivation. Come eat ice cream with me.”

Arthur sighs. “I’d like to, but I have lectures all day tomorrow and work in the evening, so I have to get this done tonight.”

“Even more reason you need ice cream.” Merlin takes his book, sets it, open, on the coffee table, and takes Arthur’s hand, pulling him off the couch and toward the kitchen. “We need to make you happy now so that your stressful week doesn’t burn you out.”

Arthur laughs and allows himself to be dragged along. “You don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you?”

“I know how,” Merlin says defensively, dropping Arthur’s hand so he can put his own on his hips. “I just don’t like to. Now, chocolate or strawberry?”

***

Arthur doesn’t see Merlin again for three days.

He’s sure that by the time he gets home from his work, Merlin is there, probably sleeping. Last night, he heard music from his room but didn’t want to disturb him, so he just locked the door and went to bed. Their schedules differ so much that Arthur thinks most days will be like this. Their first evening enjoying each other’s company will not be the norm for them; they will be nights few and far between.

Arthur sighs at the thought. He likes Merlin. He thinks they can be friends, and he wants to have time to foster that friendship. He never realized quite how far his privilege extended, that because of his father, he didn’t have to work, and therefore often had free time for whatever he wanted to do. Now he feels a stab of guilt whenever he thinks about all the times he mocked one of his friends for having to work when the rest of them were going to play football or have drinks at the pub.

He manages to roll himself out of bed somehow. He has an hour before he has to be at work, which means he has time for breakfast and a quick shower. He can smell bacon frying, can hear its crackle in the pan, which means Merlin is up and about, so he decided that the shower can wait, and breakfast should come first.

Merlin smiles at him when he comes into the kitchen. “Good morning! I’ve made coffee if you’d like some.”

“I would very much,” Arthur murmurs gratefully, padding heavily over to pour himself a cup. “What are you doing up so early? You don’t have lecture till eleven, right?”

Merlin reaches over to press down a wayward lock of Arthur’s hair. “I haven’t seen you in days. I thought I’d get up a bit early so we could have breakfast together. How do you feel about sausage and pancakes?”

“Sounds great.” Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, listening to the clatter of his spoon against the inside of his mug as he stirs sugar into his drink. “What about the bacon?”

“All mine.” Merlin winks at him. He looks over toward his bedroom when the door opens, and Arthur looks up too. A handsome man with caramel skin wanders out, pulling his shirt over his head, his eyes sleepy. Merlin beams at him. “Good morning, sunshine! You’re late for work, as of five minutes from now, so you might want to hurry.”

The man rubs his hands over his face, groaning. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried. You threw my alarm clock at me.”

He laughs and comes into the kitchen. “Hey, mate, you must be Arthur. I’m Elyan. I live right across the hall.”

“Nice to meet you.” Arthur smiles faintly.

“I’ve got to dash, but we should all go out sometime, get to know each other, with the rest of the gang, of course.” He drops a kiss on Merlin’s cheek, heads toward the door to gather his things.

“Of course,” Merlin echoes. “Have a good day. See you later.”

Elyan waves and heads out. The closing door leaves the flat quiet.

Arthur clears his throat. “So. Boyfriend?”

“Oh! No, he’s just a friend. Really sweet though. Anyone would be lucky to have him. He shares a flat with his sister, Gwen. You’d like her, I think. Everyone does.”

 _Then why was he in your room all night?_ He doesn’t say anything, just focuses on sipping his coffee.

***

Merlin is beautiful, in a strange sort of way.

He’s all angles, and no curves. Even his smile is cutting sometimes, his cheekbones sharp. But even with all his hard edges - his hipbones, his elbows, the jutting bones in his knuckles and feet - he is somehow soft. It’s in the sweet, crinkled looks he turns on Arthur when he finds him particularly endearing, and the wrinkled-nosed laugh he blesses him with when he’s especially pleased with something.

His incredible intelligence astounds Arthur on a near-daily basis. He has opinions on everything, it seems - books and films and politics - that all seem to stem from the same good-natured, kind place as everything else Merlin does, that no one should ever want for anything and no one should ever be made to feel as though they are less. Arthur thinks his father would hate Merlin, and that just adds to the attraction.

It helps that Merlin is constantly flirting with him - or at least, doing what Arthur assumes to be flirting. He’s always touching and prodding and manhandling him, almost a mother-hen, if Arthur is honest with himself, and no one ever talks to Arthur quite like Merlin does, like he’s a very special addition to his surroundings.

“What are you thinking about?” Merlin talks with his mouth full of chocolate, because it’s just after Valentine’s Day, and Gwen distributed chocolate bars to everyone in the building. Arthur is fairly certain that Merlin got more than one, because he seems to always have chocolate at hand lately.

Arthur smiles at him when he plops down on the couch and pushes his feet into Arthur’s lap. “I’m thinking about how detrimental living with you is to getting any work done,” he says pointedly as he leans over him to set his book on the table. He rubs his hand over Merlin’s ankle, pressing his thumb into his anklebone in a way he knows makes Merlin ticklish. Having only lived with him for two months, this seems like too much to know about him.

Merlin squeaks and pulls his foot away. “You like it,” he declares, tossing his head. “If you didn’t, you would revise in your room like the rest of us do when we have annoying flatmates.”

“I don’t have an annoying flatmate.” Arthur coaxes his foot back and sets to rubbing his ankles and feet in earnest, his lips twitching up at the way Merlin shudders and sinks into the couch. “I just have one that I tend to spend a lot of time with.”

“And who brings you coffee every day. Don’t forget about the coffee I bring you.”

“You get it for free at the shop! It’s not as if you buy it.”

“But I _make_ it. Being a barista has certain benefits, and being able to easily steal coffee is one of them. And don’t I make very delicious coffee, Arthur?” He bats his eyelashes at him.

Arthur pinches his ankle. “You’re impossible. You know that, don’t you?”

Merlin grins widely enough for the chocolate to show on his teeth. “You like it.”

“Oddly enough, I do. Even when it stops me from doing what I need to.”

“Hint taken.” Merlin laughs, pushing himself up and off the couch. “I need to sleep anyway.” He dips in to press his mouth to Arthur’s in a quick, chocolate-flavored kiss. “Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur stares after him for long after he’s closed his bedroom door, and remembers too late that he forgot to tell him to sleep well.

***

Arthur should probably be surprised by the ease with which he and Merlin fall into bed together.

They’re watching _Wristcutters: A Love Story_ , which Merlin likes because “It doesn’t end at all as you think it will, Arthur, and it’s just lovely because it’s the kind of love story that you think just can’t have a happy ending until it does.”

Merlin insists on sharing his blanket with Arthur, despite his protestations that he isn’t cold, and as soon as he’s trapped beneath it, he realizes that blanket-sharing is synonymous with cling-wrap cuddles. Merlin has his arms around him in a heartbeat, his head butted up under his chin. All Arthur can do is curl an arm around his back and draw him in closer.

He’s surprisingly easy to hold, for all those angles and bones and sharp points. Arthur only gets an uncomfortable elbow in the vulnerable part of his belly once. Merlin settles in and molds himself against him, like a second layer of clothes.

“This is the most depressing movie ever, isn’t it?”Arthur groans. “You’re going to make me watch a really depressing movie, and I’m not going to be able to handle it.”

“I told you it has a happy ending!”

“You’re probably lying so I’ll watch it. You’re one of those artsy blokes who like really sad movies and trick other people into watching them with you and talking about how much they reflect the human condition.”

“Oy! In case you’ve forgotten, of the pair of us, _you’re_ the artsy one!”

“In what way?” Arthur practically shrieks.

“You’re studying _English literature_. The only way you could be artsier is if you were studying poetry! _I’m_ reading chemistry; I am not allowed anywhere near the arts, and you know it.”

Arthur grumbles under his breath. “This is still a depressing artsy film.”

“It isn’t, and you know it. Hush up, or I’ll make you.”

“With what force?” He laughs.

And just like that, Merlin slides his hands into Arthur’s hair and pulls him in, pressing their mouths together. Arthur goes completely still for a moment, and then remembers that he decided, late at night, when no one could tell just how anxious he was over it, that if Merlin wanted to kiss him again, he would kiss back. And here Merlin is, kissing him again, so Arthur kisses him back.

Merlin is surprisingly seriousness about this undertaking. His fingertips rest lightly against Arthur’s jaw, and he tilts his head slightly, lips parted. Arthur runs his tongue along Merlin’s bottom lip, along the pointed tips of his canine teeth, pressing in against Merlin’s tongue when he slots their mouths together more firmly.

Merlin’s hands come to carefully frame Arthur’s face, like he’s holding something very fragile - a small bird or a crystal wine glass - and he shifts up onto his knees, forcing Arthur to lift his face to him. He laughs, a sweet, broken sound. “Come to bed with me,” he murmurs, brushes that soft mouth against the bridge of Arthur’s nose. “Please?”

How can Arthur possibly refuse that?

***

Arthur has never seen Merlin move quite as slowly as he is now. He parts the buttons on Arthur’s shirt, presses open-mouthed kisses to each inch of newly-exposed skin, flowing like liquid to his knees when he has to tug the ends out from his trousers and pressing kisses to the soft part of Arthur’s belly, right below his navel. He leaves the shirt hanging open, his fingers insistent as he presses Arthur’s hips so he sit down on the end of the bed.

“Merlin…”

He hushes him gently; works open his belt, tugs down his zipper and draws his cock out of his boxers. Arthur hisses, leaning back on his hands to watch him. He’s beautiful, really, truly beautiful, even with his sharp mouth and bony feet and the blunt fingernails that dig into Arthur’s thighs as he slides his mouth over him.

He lets his head fall back, closing his eyes, not watching - because if he watches, it will be too much, and if it’s too much, he won’t be able to live with it. Merlin’s mouth is slow and wet and firm, and he doesn’t rush it; he doesn’t rush anything, and Arthur’s toes curl. It’s not the same kind of mind-numbing suction he’s used to. It’s a slow wash, warmth that starts in his upper thighs and works its way into his chest. It’s not the crash of an orgasm so much as the light-headed sensation of holding his breath for too long.

Merlin pulls off when he comes, lets it hit his cheek in a wet slide that makes Arthur twitch and reach for him. He allows himself to be pulled off the floor and into Arthur’s lap, pushing him down onto his back, and reaches over to the nightstand for a tissue to wipe off his face and mouth. And just like that, all the intensity, all the gravity is gone, and Merlin grins. “I probably should have used a condom, in retrospect,” he comments, wiggling down to tuck his head up under Arthur’s chin. “I’ll remember for next time.”

 _Next time_.

Arthur closes his arms around him.

***

Merlin’s bed smells just like Merlin: crisp and clean, like bar soap and freshly-mown grass. Arthur presses his face into the pillow and stays there much longer than he should, considering he has to be at work in half an hour. Forgoing a shower seems inevitable at this point. Merlin has already left for an early lecture.

“I’ll come see you at lunch,” he suggested when he woke Arthur up to kiss him goodbye. “I’ll bring muffins.”

“You’ll steal muffins,” Arthur grumbled into the pillow.

“It’s not stealing if I work there,” Merlin pointed out. “Besides, they’re apple-cinnamon. I know you like them because you filched half of the ones Gwen made me last week. Don’t even try to deny it; you know it’s true.”

“Mmm.” Arthur closed his eyes. “Muffins it is. Sleep now?”

Merlin laughed, ran scraping fingers along Arthur’s scalp, and was gone.

Now Arthur has three hours until he sees him again, and those three hours must be spent at the bookshop. He’ll be working until two-thirty today, four and a half hours, just in time to leave for his three o’clock lecture. He can’t believe he’s not more exhausted than he is. Working his way through university is much tougher than he imagined it would be.

Merlin is a nice comfort though, someone pleasant and sweet to come home to in the evenings.

Arthur woke in the middle of the night with kisses smoothed across his throat, Merlin’s hand sliding across his belly to rest on his hip and pull him in close. The corner of his lips twitched up, and he slotted himself against Arthur, resting their mouths together. They kissed lazily, caught in the soft lamplight cast through Merlin’s window from the street, and Arthur looked up at him, touched his fingertips to the highlighted curve of his cheekbone.

“Are you alright?” he asked him quietly.

Merlin nodded, patted his chest reassuringly. “Yes. I just wanted to say hello.”

Arthur cracked a smile. “Hello.”

Satisfied, Merlin went back to sleep.

And now here Arthur is, lying in Merlin’s bed, waiting for his head to stop spinning. He feels almost hung over, really, and he wonders if his flatmate will always have this effect on him - this drunken stupor that leaves him reeling. He’s been spinning since he moved in, he decides, and he probably will be until someone puts a stop to it.

At present, he’s not sure he wants to stop anyway.

***

Arthur finds it all surprisingly easy.

They don’t talk about it. Except when they’re in bed together, or going to bed together, the subject really doesn’t come up. They haven’t discussed the terms of their relationship, or even if there is one. It’s just so simple - just sex. That’s all.

It’s not as if Arthur doesn’t _want_ more. There’s just something intimidating about asking Merlin for it. He’s so easygoing. He’s so comfortable with himself and with the people around him. Besides the sex, nothing else about their relationship has changed. Asking him to commit to something, to maybe make a decision or set a title or term where he’s not ready to might be enough to scare him away.

Arthur really doesn’t want to scare him away. He wants to hold onto him, on any level. He’s so attracted to Merlin that he feels like a honey bee sometimes, buzzing around the bright blossom that’s sitting open in the sunshine waiting for him. He doesn’t want to ruin whatever is happening by forcing Merlin to put a label on it.

And he so likes what’s happening.

He likes to slide his fingers into Merlin and rub there, just to see Merlin quiver and tremble and break apart and open, an egg hatching. He’s quiet when he’s the focus of intimacy. He doesn’t say a word.

He just holds onto Arthur’s shoulder and looks up at him with an intensity that can only be considered cat-like, his hips rolling down against his hand. It’s not enough to get him off, but Merlin doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t ask for more, either, because he’s in his state of saint-like silence. He just holds onto Arthur’s shoulder with one hand, and uses the other to slide around Arthur’s cock, still focused and firm.

That’s the one thing Arthur has noticed about Merlin as a lover, more than anything else. He approaches sexual encounters like he’s on a mission, and that mission is to make Arthur come, above all other things. Arthur is embarrassed by how often, and how quickly, Merlin has managed it, just to wander away to do something else before Arthur can even think about reciprocation. Even now, when _Arthur_ initiated contact - which rarely happens, now that he comes to think about it - when he is actively trying to narrow the gap between them, Merlin is trying to distract him.

“Merlin,” he breathes. “You don’t have to - I just - please let me.”

“There’s no reason we can’t both come.” Merlin smiles up at him, nosing at his cheek. “Let me help you.”

Arthur reaches down to move Merlin’s hand away, and draws his own away as well, settling down against him. He warms at the soft sound of surprise and pleasure that fights its way from Merlin’s throat and the way Merlin clutches at his shoulders and presses his hips up, his legs falling open.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur blurts out, pushing Merlin’s hair off his face, rocking lightly against him. “You’re so incredibly beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Merlin bursts into giggles, his head tipping back against the pillow. “No, I don’t think anyone has.”

“Then everyone’s crazy.” Arthur nods decisively. “You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. I feel very, very lucky right now.”

Merlin’s smile fades, and he touches his fingertips to Arthur’s cheek. “You’re too much.”

“Am I?”

“Completely.” The laughter is back, making Merlin’s voice quake, his eyes crinkle up. “But it’s alright. I like it.” He rubs the sole of his foot up Arthur’s calf. “Come on now. I believe you were trying to make me come.”

It doesn’t take long for Arthur - the steady friction, the press of warm skin, the all-consuming sensation of Merlin wrapped around him. He pushes himself up off of him and off to the side, and Merlin smiles over at him. “Satisfied?”

“Mmm.” Arthur blinks sleepily, rolling over toward him and urging him onto his side so he can spoon up behind him.

Merlin looks over his shoulder at him, petting his arm where it rests around his waist. “Well, aren’t you a cuddlebug?”

“Not quite.” Arthur kisses his shoulder slides his hand down over his cock and squeezes slightly, eliciting a quiet gasp from Merlin. “Just like being close.”

Merlin melts and sinks against him, his arm curling back to slide his fingers into Arthur’s hair. “ _Oh_.” His hips stutter forward. “I see. Well, carry on.”

Arthur laughs quietly. “Thanks for the permission.”

Merlin looks wonderful like this, with his head tipped back against Arthur’s pillow, his eyes closed and lips parted, breath sweet against Arthur’s jaw. He is still quiet, the little whines and squeaks he allows stilted, and once or twice, Arthur notices he’s holding his breath. When he comes, spilling over Arthur’s fingers, he shudders from his shoulders through his knees, then practically collapses, sagging into the bed.

Arthur presses kisses to his ear until he twists at the waist to look up at him, then kisses him full on the mouth. Merlin smiles sleepily. “Are you hungry?”

Arthur rocks his head side to side, contemplating. “A bit. Takeaway?”

“Chinese?” The excitement with which Merlin says the word destroys any remnants of his serene demeanor. He wiggles away from Arthur and out of the bed, grabbing his pants and pajama bottoms and tugging them on. “I’ll order. Do you want spring rolls?”

“Of course.”

“They’re yours!” Merlin winks at him and rushes off.

***

Merlin has a great deal of friends, which doesn’t come as much of a shock to Arthur. Just going off of their first meeting, the way Merlin immediately drew Arthur into his life, without so much as a fight between them about it, it is absolutely not surprising that he knows most of the people who live on their floor, and it’s less surprising that they all adore him.

Merlin is simultaneously the person everyone goes to with their problems and the person that everyone wants to look after because he has such a ridiculous air of absolutely inappropriate levity about everything. That results in Gwen appearing with food at various times during the week because she’s sure Merlin’s forgotten to eat, and Elyan accompanying Merlin to his lectures because he’s sure there are murderers and thieves out there waiting to prey on Merlin’s good nature.

Arthur likes them immediately, and they seem to take to Arthur fairly well. He wonders if they decided immediately that if Merlin likes him, he must be a good guy, but he really thinks there are very few people Merlin doesn’t like, just like he thinks there are fairly few people who don’t like Merlin.

Freya, who is terribly shy and, as far Arthur knows, only really talks to Merlin, is the one person Arthur avoids if he runs across her in the corridor. She has no interest in knowing him, and seems to be of the opinion that Arthur can only mean bad things for Merlin. Which might be true. Arthur has no idea how, but you never know.

The only person Arthur actively dislikes at times is Gwaine. It’s not that he’s a bad guy, or even that he’s rude or especially irritating. He just spends far too much time _touching_ Merlin. He wants too much and too often to wrap his arms around Merlin and nuzzle against his neck or, when he’s drunk, to kiss his face until Merlin can’t breathe with his laughter and has to push him away.

He never says anything about this distaste, because he and Merlin aren’t in a relationship. They are just friends, who sometimes sleep together as well. Arthur would be nothing but a hypocrite if he complained about Merlin’s relationship with Gwaine, especially since he’s never bothered to ask Merlin what he wants or _if_ he wants something more than they have now. It’s not his place to dictate his other relationships.

So he really shouldn’t be surprised when he comes home from an impromptu football match organized by Elyan in the park to find Gwaine on the couch with his fingers buried in Merlin’s hair, and Merlin giving him a very studious blowjob.

He stands there in the doorway for a long time, just staring, watching Merlin here in the same position with Gwaine that he was in with Arthur himself just a few nights ago. And he feels like an idiot, because on some level, of course this is his own fault. The miscommunication about what they were and what he wanted is all his own; he never bothered to tell Merlin that he _wants_ him, and he doesn’t want anyone else to have him.

He swallows down the thick swell of anger and hurt in the back of his throat and edges around them, doing his best to leave them to it undisturbed, and closes the door to his bedroom tight, resolving to do his homework and go to bed early, since he certainly has no interest in looking Merlin in the eye right now.

He hasn’t eaten dinner, but he’s never had less of an appetite.

After three hours, during which he ran out of reading to do and has finished writing two essays that aren’t do until next month, and after the sturdy close of the front door that signifies that Gwaine probably went home, he allows himself out of the room so he can relieve himself. He immediately mentally kicks himself in the face for this decision, since Merlin is in the bathroom cleaning his teeth. He smiles around his toothbrush and Arthur grimaces in response, unable to make disappear the image of Merlin with his mouth on Gwaine’s cock.

He clears his throat. “Will you be through soon?”

Merlin nods and leans down to spit out the toothpaste. After rinsing his mouth and patting it dry with a towel, he leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms over his chest. “Haven’t seen you all day. When did you come in?”

Arthur shrugs. “Around eight. Gwaine was over so I didn’t want to disturb you. He’s left?”

“Yeah, half an hour ago. You alright?”

“I’m fine. Would you mind letting me in the bathroom?”

Merlin pushes himself upright. “Alright, Grumpy Man.” He touches his shoulder, kisses the corner of his mouth. Arthur goes very still. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he echoes faintly, before going into the bathroom and closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

When Arthur goes into the kitchen two days later, Merlin is running about with a piece of toast in his mouth and his backpack hooked over his elbow, obviously late for his lecture. Arthur swells with affection, despite himself, despite Gwaine and Merlin’s obliviousness and the fact that they haven’t spoken since that night, and lets Merlin be frantic while Arthur heats water in the kettle, steeps his tea and transfers it to a travel thermos for him, adding three spoonfuls of sugar for his sweet tooth’s sake.

Merlin notices when he sets his back on the kitchen table and starts stuffing notebooks and folders into it. “Forgiven me for whatever I’ve done wrong, I take it?”

Arthur twists the cap on the thermos and sets it on the table next to his things. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he lies smoothly, because it’s true, no matter how it’s felt. “I’ve just been tired and stressed. I’m sorry.”

Merlin smiles at him, and slings his bag onto his back before stepping around the table to curl his arms around Arthur’s neck and kiss him gently. “I’m glad you feel better,” he says quietly. “I’ve missed you. And I know you don’t have work tonight, so would you like to watch a film with me? We can order takeaway from that curry place you like.”

Arthur presses his hands into his hips and swallows. If he wants to change what they are, and how they are, he has a perfect opportunity, right now, and he’s an idiot if he doesn’t take it. Because Merlin is perfect, and all that he wants, and if he wants him to himself, and exclusively, he can’t just think it or hope it; he has to act on it.

“Actually, why don’t we go out tonight?” he suggests instead, as lightly as he can. “Dinner? A film maybe?”

Merlin’s fingernails scratch lightly at the nape of Arthur’s neck, running through the short, curling hairs there. He seems to have forgotten that he’s running late, or that he has somewhere to be at all. “Like a date?” he asks cautiously, eyes big.

Arthur clears his throat, nods. “Like a date.”

The smile on Merlin’s face is bright enough to wake a blind man. “I would love that.” He kisses him again. “I have to go though. I’ll see you later?”

Arthur laughs. “Yes, go, before they kick you out of university for not showing.”

Merlin pulls a face at him and dashes off. Arthur notices too late that he left his tea on the table, so he drinks it himself.

***

Arthur’s phone rings while he’s getting ready for their date. When he answers it, Merlin doesn’t even say hi.

“I have a proposition.”

He sets the phone on his desk with the speaker on so he can knot his tie properly in the mirror. “Oh?”

“Yes. I’m going to come home, but I’m going to go straight to my room and get dressed for dinner,” he explains, the speaker giving his voice that tinny, echoing quality. “And then I’m going to leave so I can meet you at the restaurant.”

Arthur pauses. “Why?”

“Because it’ll be more date-like!”

“It would be much easier to go together.”

“But less fun. Play along.”

Arthur sighs in a very put-upon way. “Alright. We’re going to Le Chateau.”

“The hotel? How presumptuous, Arthur. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Shut up.” He laughs. “They have a great restaurant.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there. Have fun getting ready. When I get home, stay in your room until I leave again!” He makes a loud kissing sound into the speaker and hangs up.

***

The walk luckily isn’t very long from their flat to the restaurant. Since their reservation is at seven-thirty, Arthur leaves at seven, since he really doesn’t want to arrive sweaty from rushing. The evening breeze is lovely and does much to calm his nerves. There’s no reason he should be as anxious about this as he is. He and Merlin live together, know each other very well, have had any number of meals together. This is not new territory, except that he has so much more stock in this than he’s had in any previous interactions between them.

Merlin is locking his bike to a rack down the street when Arthur approaches the front of the hotel. He smiles up at him, tugs lightly at his tie. “Don’t you look smart,” he says and kisses his cheek. “I’ve said yes to a date with the right fellow, it seems.”

“You look great.” Arthur runs his hands down his sides, admiring the slim lines his skinny jeans and button-down give him. “I didn’t expect it; you’ve terrible fashion sense.”

Merlin pinches his arm. “Rude!”

Arthur laughs and offers him his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall!”

The restaurant is beautiful, decorated in rich chocolates and roses, simple but elegant, and very quiet. Arthur has only once been here for a meal, and it was when a man had asked him out and it was the nicest place he could afford to take Arthur. He certainly hadn’t been disappointed, even if it wasn’t his first choice of date spot, and now that he himself is somewhat strapped for cash, he likes the idea of it rather a lot.

Merlin gives a low whistle once they’re seated at a quiet table for two in a corner. He tucks his cloth napkin into his lap and looks around. “This is lovely. And much more than you needed to do. I would have been perfectly content with sandwiches at the café.” He squeezes Arthur’s hand across the table. “Thank you.”

Arthur beams, pleased. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you might find it stuffy.”

“Believe it or not, I am not the complete fair-trade hippie you think I am. Sometimes, I do like to be a bit pampered.”

“I have never thought of you as a complete fair-trade hippie. Just part of one. The rest of you is a hipster skater boy who listens to too much Mumford & Sons.”

Merlin kicks him under the table, laughing. “Shut it. I don’t go about calling you a spoiled prat who lives beyond his means.”

“I don’t!”

“Arthur, you bought lobster last week, for no reason or occasion but that you felt like it.”

Arthur huffs. “I’m still learning.”

The waiter comes before Merlin can respond, and soon enough, their food has come. Merlin tucks into his chicken parmesan, humming happily. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me. It’s a date, Merlin. The whole point is for me to impress you.”

He dips his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough. Since this is a date, can I ask you a question?”

“I believe awkward getting-to-know-you questions are required on a first date.”

Merlin’s lips twitch up, and he leans in toward him with his arms on the edge of the table. “You said you were still learning earlier, when we talked about how poor you are with spending money.” He touches Arthur’s hand comfortingly, right about the time Arthur can feel his face going hot. “Why are you just learning that? What’s happened that you find you have to learn that?”

Arthur swallows hard and taps the edge of his fork on his plate while he thinks of how to phrase this. “My father is the CEO of Camelot Industries,” he begins, nodding when Merlin’s eyes spark with recognition. “Yes, the one you’re thinking of, that makes the sporting equipment.”

Merlin gives a low whistle. “That’s… an impressive background, to say the least.”

“More like an intimidating one,” Arthur snorts. “I’ve been groomed to follow my father into the family business since I was a child. I was required to attend board meetings with him beginning when I was twelve. As much as I wanted to please him, I was never quite - my mind isn’t business-oriented enough. I knew that even if I chose a business concentration for university, I wasn’t going to excel in it, not enough to earn the position that my father wanted me to fill.”

Merlin rubs the pad of his thumb around the rim of his wineglass, eyes focused on Arthur’s face. “So you decided to study something you like. How did that go over with your father?” He scoops the glass up to drink from it, and Arthur studies the elegant lines of Merlin’s wrist.

He clears his throat. “Not well. He threatened disinheritance. Again.”

“Again?”

“Yes. Every time I do something, or suggest something, that he doesn’t approve of, he expresses his disapproval by telling me if I move forth with whatever it is, he’s going to stop funding my existence.”

Merlin’s wince is visible. “That’s horrible.”

“Among other things.” Arthur shrugs. “But luckily for me, when it came to university and what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, I was able to say no to him. And it’s been the best decision I’ve ever made. I’m even out of the closet now.” He flashes a grin at him. “I mean, that happened when I was sixteen, but I was informed I could find another place to live if I wanted to choose that lifestyle.”

“He doesn’t mess about.” Merlin gives a low whistle. “So you’ve been supporting yourself since then? No support from him?”

“None. I thought it would be harder, to not have all the things I’ve been used to. But Morgana makes it a point to help me when my funds are low, and there’s something rather nice about earning my own money. Even when I’m stupid and spend it on lobster and then can’t afford to buy enough food for the rest of the month.”

Merlin slides his fingers around Arthur’s wrist, squeezing gently. “Arthur, I think it’s really incredible that you’re doing this,” he says quietly. “It can’t be easy, and I’m really impressed and proud. But don’t ever feel like you have to suffer or go without, alright? I’m here to help.”

“Thank you, honestly.” Arthur brings his hand to his mouth, kisses his knuckles, puffing up at the bright smile Merlin gives him. “As hard as it is, I’m glad I did it. All my life, I’ve put everyone’s wants and needs before my own. I’ve made a lot of people very satisfied with their lives, and haven’t left myself much room to wiggle and make my own happiness. I’m trying to change that.”

“Good.” Merlin nods decisively. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” He licks his lips. “So. You have all the gritty details of my childhood. What about yours?”

He sits back in his chair, twisting his mouth up. “Well, I don’t have an overbearing father who threatened to disown me when I came out.” He smiles lightly to show he’s joking. “But I might have preferred that to not having a father at all.”

Arthur starts to nod in agreement before he realizes what’s being said. He flushes, ashamed suddenly of his own complaints against his father. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal.” Merlin shrugs. “I never knew him. He took off before I was born, and he’s never come back. I don’t even know what he looks like. My mother said she doesn’t think she’d recognize him if she saw him again.”

“Do you ever wish he was around?”

“No. I don’t want to know him now. It’s been twenty years. If he felt any remorse for abandoning my mother to raise me alone, it’s too late for him to show it. Besides,” he perks up. “My mum did just fine by herself. I’ve turned out alright.”

“You’re wonderful,” Arthur agrees, his tone more serious than he intends it to be. “I’m sorry; I’ve been complaining about my dad, and he’s always been there for me, wanting me to succeed.”

“Yes, but wanting you to succeed his way,” Merlin points out. “I’d much rather have no dad than have one telling me I can only be happy as long as it’s on his terms.” He pauses. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak poorly of your dad.”

“No, no, you’re right. I think he loves me, but he so often threatens my well-being, whenever I go against him, that I wonder if he just shows affection to keep me in line. It would be so much more straightforward for him to just not be in my life. I’d say I envy you, but I have no idea what your life has been like.”

Merlin presses his lips together. “My mum has done everything she can to make my life the best she possibly could. She even set aside money when I was born so I could attend university. But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t lonely, or didn’t wish I had a dad sometimes, especially when I was a teenager.”

Arthur chuckles softly, nodding. “I can imagine. I’m sorry.” He curls their fingers together.

They share a piece of chocolate cheesecake, which thrills Arthur. In his experience, ordering dessert can only mean that the date has gone well so far, because it means Merlin wants to spend more time with him.

Merlin takes a big bite of cheesecake, sliding the fork slowly from between his lips, and bats his eyelashes. He seems pleased when Arthur laughs at the behavior. “So now that we’ve talked about all the nasty family stuff, let’s talk about something fun.” He slices into the pie with the edge of his fork. “How about sex?”

Arthur’s eyebrows lift, and his face flushes hot, thoughts of being curled together naked in Merlin’s bed jumping to the front of his mind. “Sure,” he manages. “But you have to start.”

“Do I? What shall I tell you?”

“Anything you like.”

“Well.” Merlin thinks for a moment, his eyes turned up toward the ceiling. “I lost my virginity when I was fourteen, with Will. I told you about him, my old flatmate.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Arthur’s stomach twists up. “So you were lovers?”

Merlin bursts into giggles and shakes his head. “No, no. It wasn’t like that. And no, he didn’t move out because we split up. We were just… best friends. I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else, the first time. It made sense.” He shrugs. “Sex has never been something magical for me, you know? I mean, it’s nice and fun, but I didn’t feel like I needed to wait until I met the love of my life to lose my virginity.”

Arthur nods quietly, and scrapes his fork against the edge of his plate, trying to get the excess chocolate from the cheesecake off. “So you’re alright with casual sex and the like?”

“Yes, of course.” Merlin smiles encouragingly. “So what about you?”

Arthur hesitates, shifting in his seat. “Well, I was in my first serious relationship when I was seventeen. His name was Val. Not a very nice guy, in the end, but you know. He was my first time. I’ve only been in a two relationships since, so that’s the extent of my sexual experience really.” He smiles faintly. “I mean, it’s not that I’m inexperienced, really. Those relationships were long-term, so I’ve had a lot of sex, just not with many people.”

Merlin shakes his head quickly. “You don’t have to make excuses for yourself, Arthur. There’s nothing wrong with not having a lot of sexual partners. Don’t let my slutty ways make you feel inadequate.” He winks playfully. “Besides, I know you’re lovely in bed, so it’s alright.”

***

When they leave the restaurant, they drift toward home, their pace lazy, slowed by the warm evening breeze that’s kicked up in the last two hours. Merlin laces his fingers with Arthur’s, tucking both of their hands into Arthur’s jacket pocket, and presses their shoulders together to lean into him.

“You know, I like you quite a lot,” Merlin says softly, looking over at him.

Arthur swells at that, pleased. “Yeah? I like you too.”

Merlin beams at him. “I wasn’t sure if you would ever ask me out. I knew you liked me, on some level, but we share a flat, and I thought you’d be too much of a gentleman to say anything.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to claim to be chivalrous anymore, considering,” Arthur laughs, presses his lips to his temple. “I thought I might as well make us official, if we were acting like a couple anyway.”

Merlin graces him with a small smile and kisses his cheek. “Yes, well, I’m glad you did.”

Arthur almost regrets reaching their front door. Logically, he knows that being home doesn’t mean that the date has to be over, or even that they have to leave each other’s company, since they live together. But there’s something about the formality of going out together that being home will necessarily lack.

He catches Merlin’s hand at their door, stilling them with a jingle of keys that don’t quite reach the lock. “I had a lot of fun tonight, Merlin.” He shifts from foot to foot. “Would you - I mean, if you want, would you like to go out again? With me?”

Merlin squeezes his arm, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Yes, please,” he murmurs against his skin. “And thank you. I had a very lovely time.”

Arthur tries not to show how pleased he is. He lets Merlin draw him after him into the flat, where he’s ordered to put on his pajamas. He does so, and finds Merlin kneeling on the couch in flannels and a t-shirt, with a copy of Shaun of the Dead pressing against his nose. “All good dates end with zombie movies,” he says seriously, resting his chin on top of the case. “Is this a good date, Mr. Pendragon?”

Arthur takes the case from him, crouching in front of the television to put it in the DVD player. “This has been a good date, Mr. Emrys.” He plops down on the couch beside him and finds himself right away with an armful of Merlin. “Well, hello.”

Merlin presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss against the pulse point on Arthur’s neck, wiggling his hand up under his shirt to rest lightly over his belly. He traces the pads of his fingertips around his navel, humming happily. “You’re lovely,” he breathes into his skin. “I feel very lucky that you like me. Thank you.”

Arthur presses his lips to Merlin’s forehead, then dips his head to kiss his lips, gathering him up against him when Merlin presses eagerly into him, licking into his mouth. He thinks distantly about moving to one of their bedrooms, but that would mean dislodging Merlin from the warm space he occupies right against his side, and he isn’t interested in that. He also figures that, from the way the night has gone, they’ll be off to bed together eventually anyway.

They settle in to watch the movie, Merlin’s head tucked up on Arthur’s shoulder, arms curled around his torso, legs folded up and pressed into Arthur’s. He presses his nose from time to time into Arthur’s neck, affectionate, like a puppy, and Arthur feels soft and warm and pleased and wants Merlin more than he ever has, which must say quite a lot.

When the credits roll, Arthur shifts slightly, clearing his throat. “Well.” Merlin doesn’t say anything, and he twists to look down into his face, and realizes that he’s sagged against him, sound asleep, lips parted slightly and eyelashes fluttering.

Arthur smiles, and is touched enough by this show of trust and affection that he isn’t even really disappointed that nothing else will happen tonight. He very carefully scoops Merlin up, laughing quietly at the whine of protest he gives and the way he settles right back to sleep against him as he carries him away.

He thinks about just taking him to his bed with him, but thinks that would be too presumptuous, even with their history. So he tucks him into his own bed, drawing the duvet up around his shoulders, and kisses his hair.

***

Merlin is laughing, which is always Arthur’s favorite way to find him. He sets his backpack down on the kitchen table, mouthing, “Who are you talking to?”

Merlin puts his hand over the receiver. “Lance. He’s flirty. Who knew?” He winks at Arthur, then goes back to his phone call. “Arthur’s here. I’ll tell him. Alright. See you later. Bye!”

Arthur leans against the table, his arms folded across his chest. “What was that all about?”

“Lance is having a party on Saturday and wants us to come.”

His eyebrow twitches up. “He called you and not me?”

“He tried you first, but your mobile was off.” Merlin steps in close to him, curls his arms around his neck, and Arthur smoothes his hands down his sides to rest on his hips. “I like your friends. They always make me feel like I’m important, and not just the guy-dating-their-friend.”

Arthur presses their lips together lightly. “You are important,” he points out. “Besides, everyone likes you. I’m pretty sure Percy’s in love with you.”

“That may be. I’m completely irresistible.” Merlin flips his imaginary hair. “I was thinking of ordering pizza. We could have a homework party!”

“That sounds divine,” Arthur hums. “Nothing like some very greasy food on top of the fact that I have little time to work out anymore. I’ll just get very fat and you’ll have to roll me around.”

“I am okay with that.” Merlin kisses him again, then steps away when the kettle whistles.

Arthur watches him, smiling.

They’ve been dating for almost four months, and as far as he can see, everything has been going rather well. They haven’t made anything official yet. No Facebook changes or telling their friends that they’re a couple, or even introducing each other as “my boyfriend,” but he knows that with how good everything is, it can only be a matter of time.

And watching Merlin, humming and twitching his hips in time with whatever Ke$ha song has been most recently on the radio, as he pours out tea into two mugs, stirs milk into one of them and sugar into the other, that time cannot pass quickly enough.

He turns more quickly than Arthur would with two cups of steaming tea in hand, but doesn’t spill, and pushes the one with milk into Arthur’s hands. “So are we going to this party?”

“Of course. We should invite Gwen to join us. She and Lance like each other, you know.”

Merlin’s eyebrows draw together. “I thought he was gay.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t call him that. He’s… open-minded.” Arthur nods decisively at this description. “Why? What would make you say that?”

Merlin shrugs, sipping his tea. “No reason. Just a vibe, I guess. How about that pizza?”

***

That night, Arthur wakes to Merlin crawling into bed beside him. He winces. “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet,” he whispers, like there’s someone else in the room he might wake.

“It’s alright.” Arthur’s voice is sleep-gruff, and he holds the blankets open so Merlin can tuck himself in against his side. “What time is it?”

“Half-one. I lost track of time writing that lab report.” Merlin nuzzles his nose into the hollow of Arthur’s throat, breathing deeply. “I’ve missed sleeping with you.”

“You know you’re always welcome.” Arthur curls his arm around his back, rests his cheek against his hair. “It doesn’t have to just be an occasional thing.”

“I know. But you’re so often tired, and I know I keep you awake when I’m here because I kick you in my sleep, and you’re so kind that you don’t ever say anything or complain, even though I’m sure it’s really irritating.”

He chuckles. “It’s not so bad.”

“I hope not.” Merlin lifts his face, presses his mouth to Arthur’s. Arthur slides his fingers into his hair, shifting to press Merlin onto his back, resting lightly against him. Merlin hums, pressing his hand to the nape of his neck, drawing him in closer, his tongue slow and sure against Arthur’s. After several long minutes, he cups Arthur’s face and pulls him back, smiling. “It’s late. You need sleep, darling.”

Arthur groans, buries his face against Merlin’s neck. “I know. I miss all the good stuff when I have to be up early for work.”

Merlin giggles and shifts onto his side, drawing Arthur’s arm around him and pressing back against him. “You have the weekend off though, so we’ll have plenty of time for fun. And Lance’s party! We’re looking forward to that, aren’t we?”

Arthur chuckles, kisses his neck. “True.”

If Arthur’s honest with himself, he’s looking forward to any opportunities to be intimate with Merlin. They haven’t had sex since they started dating. Arthur finds the irony in this appalling; they slept together fairly regularly as friends and flatmates, but now that they’re dating, and getting on toward being a couple, they’re practicing celibacy in the worst way, and Arthur has no idea why.

Still, Merlin is free with affection, and Arthur adores him, so patience is a virtue he feels he can easily practice.

He hooks his chin over Merlin’s shoulder and sighs.

Merlin pats the back of his head sympathetically. “Good night.”

“Night.”

***

Two months into their relationship, Merlin plopped down on the couch next to Arthur and stared at him for a long time. Arthur ignored him and continued to focus on the book he was reading. This kind of Merlin attention meant that he would soon be asking him questions or making observations about Arthur’s behavior. (“Did you know - you bite the left side of your lip when your nervous?” “Arthur, it’s really endearing how you go all red and stuttering when you’re embarrassed. We should hang out with Morgana more often.”)

True to form, Merlin slid up close to him, took his hand and pressed kisses to his knuckles. “Do you have any friends, Arthur?”

Arthur blinked over at him, book hovering in the air. “What?”

“Do you have friends? People you spend time with whose company you enjoy? Shared interests and all that?”

“I know what friends are, Merlin.” He clears his throat. “And yes, I have friends.”

Merlin tucked his legs up under him, head tilted curiously. “Then why don’t you talk about them? Why don’t they come around?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t much time to see them lately, with work and university and everything.”

“Are they students?”

“Yes. Well, not Leon. He’s graduated. He works for my dad.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “But you like him anyway?”

“Yes, I do in fact.” Arthur laughed. “Why so interested in my social life all of a sudden?”

“Well, you know all of my friends. I’m just interested in knowing yours. Is that alright? May I meet them?”

Arthur cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He’d never brought someone he’s involved with around his friends. Not even his old boyfriends, when he thought they were serious. He was never sure enough if they would get along, and it made more sense to keep them separate, make time for each party, and avoid contention that way.

Merlin’s face turned downward with a deeper frown the longer Arthur took to answer. “You don’t have to,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want me to meet them, you don’t have to introduce me to them.”

“No! No, I want to. I’m scared to. I want you to like them.”

“What about them liking me?”

“Everyone likes you.”

“Alright.” He smiled shyly. “We could go to the pub this weekend? I’d love to meet them.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll work it out.”

And he did. Just as Merlin asked, they met at a pub a few blocks from their flat. And just as Arthur expected, they adored Merlin. Twenty minutes in, Arthur was sure they all liked Merlin more than they liked him. And, surprising even himself, he realized that he didn’t really mind. On some level, he was a bit proud to have such a likable boyfriend - or boy-thing, since they never really defined their relationship - and maybe this meant that it would work out alright, in the end.

Now, two months later, Arthur’s friends and Merlin’s friends are suddenly a conglomeration of very different people who all get along famously. And Lance’s party is a hit. Arthur had no idea that he had Merlin invite his friends as well, and his spacious flat is throbbing with people and voices and music, the tinkering of glasses and bottles a pleasant addition to the sounds.

Gwaine flops down on the couch beside Arthur, who is sitting alone and enjoying the soft buzz of beer in the front of his mind, because Merlin’s run off somewhere with Gwen, presumably to get more wine. “Arthur, Arthur, I have to ask you a question. It’s a matter of life and death, mind you.” He curls his hand into Arthur’s shirt, to force his attention on him.

Arthur looks over at him, eyeing him skeptically. “Yes?”

“Viviane. I have to - she’s so hot, Arthur. I mean, have you looked at her?”

He grimaces. Viviane is gorgeous, blonde and fit, with a clear complexion and a dazzling smile. Unfortunately, Arthur’s known her all his life, and he knows the attitude that goes with that body isn’t nearly as pretty. “She’s all yours, mate, if you can manage to pull her. In fact, drinks are on me next time we go to the pub if you actually make it happen.”

Gwaine grins, kisses him wetly on the cheek and launches himself off the couch, leaving Arthur laughing and wiping at his face. Morgana drops down in his place, where she pats Arthur on the knee. “A little drunk?”

“Un petit peu.”

“Was that grammatically correct, do you think?”

“I’ve no idea. Haven’t studied French since secondary school.”

Morgana pats his cheek. “How’s life with Merlin? Besotted with him, aren’t you?”

Arthur gives her a hazy smile, all soft around the edges. “He’s wonderful.”

“He is, I know. I knew you’d like him.”

“You sent me right into his Merlin-y trap. There was no way I couldn’t.”

“Mmm. Where is he now?”

“Off with Gwen, I think.”

“Gwen’s talking to Lance. I’m sure she’ll be sleeping over tonight, if they’re getting on as well as I think they are.”

“Too much information.”Arthur wrinkles his nose and peers around for Merlin. “I don’t know where he’s gone, then. Probably smoking. He’s always smoking when he thinks I’m not looking.”

“Just when he drinks,” Morgana corrects him. “I’m sure you can wean him off of it.”

“Hope so. Don’t want him dying on me from smoking-related illnesses. I’d hate that. I’ve only just got him.”

“No dark talk. You’re such a pessimist.” She pushes herself up to wobble for a moment on her atrociously tall heels and leans over on the back of the couch to drop a kiss on his hair. “Go talk to someone not Merlin,” she pesters, poking him in the stomach.

Arthur squints up at her. “Why is everyone kissing me today?”

“Because you’re just so kissable.” Merlin appears suddenly, leaning over the back of the couch and catching Arthur’s face, tilting his head back so he can press their mouths together, pressing his tongue in. He takes like mint, as if he’s just brushed his teeth, and Arthur hums, pleased. “Having fun, darling?”

“He was telling me how he was sure you were out smoking,” Morgana says, smiling.

Merlin puts a hand dramatically to his chest, peering down at Arthur in a scandalized manner. “I would never.”

“See, I told you, Morgana.”

“Shut up.” She laughs, pushes Arthur’s forehead with her fingertips. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes, you are.” Merlin shakes his head, tsking disapprovingly. “I should take you home before you fall asleep.”

“But we’re having fun,” Arthur protests.

“You’re sitting on the couch swaying, Arthur. It’s time for bed.”

“How about I take him home?” Morgana suggests. “I just had a glass of wine, so I’ll drive him. Then you can hang about for a while.”

Merlin rubs Arthur’s chest to get his attention. “Is that alright?”

Arthur waves him off, lazily. “Yes, yes. That’s fine. Take me home in your chariot, Morgana.”

He kisses Merlin goodbye, and Merlin announces that Arthur’s leaving so that everyone sends him off with shouts of goodnight, and Arthur and Morgana wave all the way out to the elevator.

Arthur falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
“You know, Merlin’s a really great guy,” Percy mentions casually, taking a swig of his beer. “I like him. I think he’s good for you.”

They’re camping out in Percy’s studio flat, waiting for Arsenal football match to begin, and also for Gwaine to arrive with takeaway. Arthur doesn’t know why he bothers inviting Gwaine, since he’s almost always late anyway.

He smiles slightly at the words. “D’you think?”

“Yeah. No one’s ever made you seem so humble before,” Percy teases. “Then again, he also brings that confidence back to your shoulders, like you’re worth something again.”

Arthur frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Uther always tore you down, made you feel like you didn’t matter and would never amount to anything. Merlin has restored some of that to you.”

“Though I’m sure you did some of that yourself,” Lance adds. “After all, it takes nerve to spurn the support you’ve had all your life, just so you’re able to live as you like. Anyone would feel pretty good about themselves after that.”

“You actually mean that?” When they both nod their affirmation, Arthur smiles brightly. “Thanks for that. Sometimes I feel like I made a really stupid decision, because really, would reading business be that difficult, if it meant that Father was paying my tuition and my rent and everything? But you know, thanks for sticking by me on this. I’m sure it’s not always easy being friends with me.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” Lance toes at Arthur’s ankle. “But don’t worry. Merlin is charming enough for both of you. If you keep him at your side at all times, your annoying qualities are completely invisible.”

Arthur pulls a face at him. They’ve known each other long enough that they all know they’re taking the piss, and that’s fine. Arthur’s a little pleased that they’re all so fond of Merlin. He’s never really told any of them that they’re dating, of course. He doesn’t want to put the cart in front of the horses, and announcing to his friends that Merlin’s his boyfriend seems like the worst way to get nowhere.

But still, they must know, with the way they’re talking. They must understand that he and Merlin aren’t just friends, even if they’re nowhere near calling themselves a couple. They must realize how _happy_ Merlin makes him, just by being a part of his life, if they’re able to see how much Merlin has changed him.

“Merlin is pretty amazing,” he decides. “I’m really lucky to have gotten such a perfect flatmate.”

Percy hums his agreement, plopping down on the couch with him and passing him a bottle. “I’m jealous of you, mate. I wish I had a flatmate as free as that.”

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, his mouth dipping into a frown. “Free?”

“Yeah, he’s so – what did they call it in the States? - _free love_ , like the hippies who didn’t believe in marriage and had love children.”

“Are you saying he’s… easy?” Arthur hesitates on the word, his head tipped to the side. He would describe him as the exact opposite. Even if they hooked up rather regularly for a while, Merlin has been fairly chaste with him since they started seeing each other.

“Well, yeah,” Percy said with a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he practically dragged me into Lance’s bedroom at that party.”

“Oh, I did not need to know that.” Lance feigns horror at the thought. “Really, now, why did he have to use my _bedroom_? He couldn’t’ve just used the bathroom?”

“Relax. We didn’t shag on your bed. He just went down on me.”

“Wait.” Arthur’s voice sounds strained, like it’s emerging from a tight space. “This was at Lance’s party? The one two weeks ago?”

“Yeah.” Percy frowns. “Wait, is he _not_ putting out for you? For fuck’s sake, if he likes sex that much, you’d think he’d be going right after you; you’re his flatmate. Easy pickings. And you’re fit. Sorry, mate.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything. He feels like his stomach has slid down into his shoes, cramped between his toes. “I’m not feeling very well,” he says quietly, setting his beer on a coaster on the coffee table. “I think I’ll head home.”

“Oh, Arthur, I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I know. It’s not your fault, or anything. I’m fine.” He manages a smile, rubbing his hands on his jeans before pushing himself to his feet. “I’m fine. I’m just – I’m really tired, so I’ll just head off.”

He considers walking home. It’s three miles, but he could use the air, the opportunity to keep himself from panicking, to let himself calm down before seeing Merlin, having to confront Merlin. Instead, he takes the Tube, the low rumble and rock of which lets him slip off into a daze. He doesn’t think. He can’t think, yet. He has to let Merlin explain.

When he steps into their flat, Merlin is standing at the kitchen counter, humming “Ode to Joy” and frosting cupcakes. He smiles at Arthur. “You’re back early,” he comments. “I didn’t expect you until late. I’m making chocolate cupcakes, with that mint frosting you like.”

Arthur melts a bit, his shoulders sagging. And he almost considers not saying anything, not telling him that he knows, because this Merlin, this man he thinks he may love, is so wonderful, and so sweet, and looks at Arthur like he is so delighted to see him every time he comes home, no matter how short a time he’s been away, that he can hardly imagine why sex even _matters_ in their relationship.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, closing the door carefully. “I need to speak with you about something.”

“Yeah?” Merlin’s smile doesn’t waver. He steps backwards towards the cabinet, reaches in for a small plate and brings it back to the table so that he can place a cupcake on it for Arthur. He pushes it across the table. “Talk while you eat. All bakers think their desserts taste good; I need an objective opinion.”

Arthur quirks a smile, sits down at the table. “I’m hardly objective.”

“You’re more objective than I am. And you’ve never hesitated to tell me when my cooking’s been bad before.”

“You’re the only person I know capable of _charring_ pasta, Merlin.”

“It was one time, and I’m fairly sure a certain flatmate of mine was distracting me by kissing my neck at the time.”

Arthur hums vaguely.

“Alright, you’re all distracted and no fun at all, so out with it. What did you want to speak with me about?”

He hesitates again, unsure if he wants to do this. What they have is so _wonderful_. Merlin does things like make him his favorite cupcakes and rent the action films he likes, even though Merlin abhors them, and he reads the books on Arthur’s shelf so they can talk about them, and patiently asks questions when Arthur starts to veer too much toward speaking like he’s in one of his seminars and Merlin loses him in the pedagogical speech, and he is always _touching_ , like Arthur isn’t real unless Merlin has his hands on him.

So why isn’t that enough?

“Percy told me you hooked up with him at Lance’s party,” Arthur rushes out, in one breath, all one word running together. “And I was wondering if that was true.”

Merlin’s face shutters so fast that Arthur can’t remember when it was open and smiling at him. He looks down at the table, a cupcake poised in one hand, butter knife in the other. “Yes, that’s true,” he says quietly.

“But - _why_?” Arthur wishes he sounded angry. He wishes he didn’t sound so desperate and needy and like he wants _so much_. “Can you explain it to me?”

Merlin shakes his head, not meeting his eyes.

“Is he the only one or-?” Merlin is shaking his head again before Arthur can even finish the question. “I don’t understand, Merlin. Do you not – is this not what you want? Our relationship?”

“It is,” Merlin murmurs, like a scolded child, setting the un-iced cupcake on the table.

“Are you not attracted to me? Is that – I mean, we’ve been together that way before, when we weren’t dating. I thought you wanted to take things slow, but you’re just going elsewhere. I – what do you want from me?”

He doesn’t answer.

Arthur’s anger flares. “If you don’t want to be with me, you should have just said so,” he hisses out, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not some delicate flower, Merlin. It would have – it would have hurt, a lot, but no more than one of my best friends telling me you slept with him, and him not having a clue that we had anything between us, since _you_ won’t let me tell people you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Merlin looks up at him for the first time. “I really am. I’m sorry.”

“I get it though.” Arthur laughs bitterly. “If we weren’t official, you could sleep with whoever you like. You’re not cheating because we’re not a couple.” He shakes his head. “This was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, dating my flatmate. We should never have done it.”

“Arthur…” Merlin chokes on his name. “I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him, as fights always do when there’s no pushback, and he swallows hard. “Merlin, you don’t have to be sorry. I’ve already – we’ll just go back to mates, alright? It’ll be fine.”

Merlin looks at him so helplessly that he almost takes it all back. Instead, he just leaves the room.

***

As far as Arthur can tell, Merlin gets over their split rather quickly, and thoroughly. It was only two days later that he woke early for work and found Gwaine creeping from Merlin’s bedroom.

“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine said far too cheerily for seven o’clock. “Would you mind if I get in the bathroom first? I’ve lecture in half an hour. I overslept a bit.”

Arthur didn’t speak, since his throat had closed, and he waved him on, hurrying into the kitchen to make himself the strongest cup of coffee he could manage, if he was going to get through the day.

When Merlin emerged twenty minutes later, after Gwaine had tornadoed through the flat and out the door, he stood barefoot and big-eyed in the kitchen doorway, staring at Arthur, more petrified than defiant, and then spun on his heel and stomped into the bathroom.

Despite Arthur’s every attempt to get things back to normal between them, the air in the flat has been rather thick and tense, like a tightly-wound violin string. Arthur remembers too well taking lessons as a young boy, being instructed to twist the peg so carefully, his chest tightening with anxiety just as the string tightened, only to gasp when it snapped and struck his face. He expects the same sting from this situation.

He wonders if Merlin is doing it on purpose. On some level, he must be. His goal must be to hurt Arthur. And yes, it hurts. It’s horrible. But he mostly feels sad, that they couldn’t figure it out, that Merlin wouldn’t _talk_ to him so that they could make it work. He’s sad that they missed an opportunity to be something great.

He says as much to Morgana over coffee, or he might have if he wasn’t so intent on being angry.

“Honestly, he’s acting as if _I_ somehow betrayed _him_ , so he’s therefore showing me how much he doesn’t need me by being with as many men as possible in the shortest amount of time.” He splays his hands on the table, helpless. “He even ran into Leon last week and propositioned _him_. It’s like he forgot Lance was my friend first! And then when Leon said no, he brought _Cenred_ home. You remember him? He was reading Chemistry here when Morgause was? He apparently still lives in the area and is now sleeping with my flatmate. God.”

Morgana listens quietly until he’s fallen silent, staring morosely into his cup. “Seems to me like you haven’t heard his side of it all,” she says slowly. “Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.”

Arthur snorts derisively. “He had no intention of explaining himself, Morgana; I told you that. He just said he was sorry and stood there staring at me.”

“Well, he’s sorry!” Morgana points out, chipper. “That’s something. He could be completely _un_ apologetic about it, and then where would you be?”

Arthur tips his head back, eyes her. “You’re defending him.”

“Stop it. I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t waste too much of your energy being angry with him,” she reasons.

“Liar. Why are you defending him?”

She sighs. “I just know Merlin very well, alright? I know his background.”

“So do I!”

“Do you?” She looks at him sharply. “Because I’d think you’d be a little more understanding, if you did.” At his expression of hurt and bewilderment, she sighs again, looping her hair around her ear. “He’s told you about his father, yeah? How he left him and his mum alone when Merlin was a baby?”

“Yes. We talked about our dads on our first date.”

Morgana snorts. “I’m sure you were very attractive after that conversation.”

“Morgana.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises her hands in surrender. “It’s just – don’t you think maybe there’s some psychological stuff going on there? A need for love or affection for Merlin? Look.” She rests her hand on the table, pursing her lips at him. “Merlin had no dad in his life, yeah? He only had his mum, and she’s worked so hard to support him, so she wasn’t around much. Merlin’s life has been really lonely. Don’t you think he would have learned really early on to combat that loneliness in any way he can?”

“I don’t understand.”

Morgana bites down on her lip for a moment. When she presents him with a sad smile, he is amazed as always that she has no lipstick on her teeth. “Maybe he doesn’t look at sleeping with other blokes as cheating on you. Maybe he’s just showing affection as he knows how.”

“By sleeping with everyone he knows?”

“Well… yes, if you want to say it like that.” Morgana is the only person alive who can make shrugging look elegant. “He’s incredibly physically affectionate, and he identifies as gay. Who knows how secondary school was for him – or college? He could have had it drilled into him that the best way to show people he cares about them is to sleep with them – and maybe it’s the easiest way to keep people from leaving him.”

Arthur sighs, a sharp uncomfortable feeling stabbing at his chest. “God, Morgana.” He rubs his forehead. “You’ve managed to make me never want to have sex with him again. Thanks for that.”

Morgana’s mouth twitches up in some semblance of a smile. She slicks back her hair. “I don’t think he dislikes sex,” she offers. “I think he doesn’t have it for the right reasons. He’d probably like it a good deal more if he was sleeping around because he enjoyed it and not out of some strange anxiety disorder.”

“Why aren’t you studying psychology?” Arthur demands suspiciously. “You should be afflicting everyone you know with this scathing psychoanalysis.”

Morgana throws a spoon at him. He deflects it and it clatters to the table. The barista makes a disapproving noise. Morgana refuses to look apologetic. “Stop deflecting,” she scolds. “You know I’m right, at least on some level. What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I _supposed_ to do?” he demands, anger flaring up. “I – I gave him a _chance_. I asked him to explain it to me, and he refused to. How am I meant to do anything about it when he won’t even tell me _why_.” He presses his lips together, swallows hard. “He actively kept something from me, Morgana.”

Morgana takes a deep breath through her nose, and releases it through her mouth. “I understand,” she says quietly.

They sit in silence for a long time, and Arthur shifts awkwardly in his chair, making it creak slightly. “You know what the worst part is?” He meets his sister’s eyes. “He – I mean, he was willing to do everything with me, be… intimate with me – don’t make that face; I’m trying to open up to you – until we starting dating officially. I thought he was being considerate, because I told him I hadn’t been with that many people, but he was just…” He runs his hand through his hair, presses his fingertips into his eyes.

“It sounds like he was trying, Arthur,” Morgana says gently. “I mean. He messed up. But maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“So what should I do? Forgive him? Give it another shot?”

“It’s up to you. But he makes you so _happy_. You have to see that. At least talk to him.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
Arthur is barely home for the next two days, and he welcomes Friday with relief. He works late that night, and when he trudges up the stairs and opens the door to their flat, he finds Merlin with his knees pulled up onto the couch, his toes poking out from his pajama bottoms. He stares at Arthur, his hands clasped around his shins, like he isn’t sure which way is the quickest out of the room and is therefore afraid to move.

Arthur drops his bag on the floor and shrugs out of his jacket. “Hey. Anything good on?”

Merlin averts his eyes to the television screen. “Repeat of Top Gear,” he murmurs.

Arthur nods and moves over to sit down next to him. “I’ve been promoted to assistant manager,” he says lightly. “I start training next week.”

“That’s great.” Merlin’s face goes soft around the edges, almost a smile. “I’m really happy for you.” He presses his hand to the couch cushion, ready to push himself up.

Arthur catches him with fingers on his wrist. “Can we talk?”

“Um.” Merlin settles again. “Yes. Sure. About what?”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, and Merlin slides his hand out from his grip, folding his arms defensively over his chest. “I’m sorry,” Arthur blurts out, which is really not what he wanted to say at all. “For yelling at you. For getting angry.”

“Oh.” Merlin casts his eyes down at his arms, picks awkwardly at a bit of fuzz on his sleeve. “It’s alright. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t, though. It was as much my fault as yours. I didn’t – I mean, we never set parameters about what we were or what we expected from each other. I assumed that I knew what our relationship was like, and I didn’t at all, and that was as much my fault as yours.” Arthur takes a breath, clears his throat. “And maybe – I was probably too judgmental. I criticized you for what you did without trying to understand.”

“Arthur, it’s okay.”

“It’s not though. I – I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Maybe – it’s not an issue of fidelity. It’s not that you cheated on me. It’s just your sexual preference. Hear me out,” Arthur begs, when Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m the kind of person who prefers to have sex with someone I am emotionally attached to and with whom I am in a relationship. And that’s fine. But you’re not that kind of person, and that’s also fine, and it’s not my place to tell you that there’s something wrong with that.”

“I don’t understand.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I want to – I want to try again. If you’ll give me the chance, anyway. I know I wasn’t very kind to you before, and I know I overreacted. I’ll try to be more open-minded, alright? I’ll – It’ll be weird for me, but I’m sure I can learn to be in a semi-open relationship. A lot of people do it, right? They make it work. Why can’t we?”

Merlin stares at him for a long time. “You’re serious?” When Arthur nods, he unfolds his arms and leans toward him a little. “And you won’t – Arthur, you won’t get upset?”

“I’ll do my best not to. I’ll learn. Just give me a chance. Be patient with me. I want to be with you. That’s important to me, even if you don’t want to sleep with me right now. I love being with you, and spending time with you, and coming home to you, and I’ve been so miserable this past month and just – please.”

“Yes,” Merlin whispers, then clears his throat and tries again. “Yes, of course. I’ve been so unhappy, Arthur. I just wanted things to be okay, and I missed you so much.” He clambers into his lap, sliding his fingers into his hair and dragging him in to kiss him. “Thank you, thank you.”

***

Arthur is almost surprised at how easy it is to slide back into being a couple. It’s almost as if they never separated in the first place.

Of course, living together made it difficult for them to be apart even after they broke up, but Arthur never expected it to be this easy. He expected awkwardness, and discomfort from their friends, and weirdness. But it works out, and he’s happy.

Merlin’s feet are cold, and Arthur traps one between his ankles, slinging an arm around him and kissing the side of his head. “You need to put on weight or wear socks to bed,” he murmurs, eyes closed. “This is completely unacceptable for bedtime.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a human radiator,” Merlin quips, snuggling back against him and dragging Arthur’s arm around him so he can stroke his fingertips against the webs between Arthur’s fingers. “You’re lucky I don’t wake up all clammy from the heat you give off.”

“Oi!” Arthur bites the shell of his ear in chastisement and huffs for good measure. “You can always go sleep in your room if you find the state of my bed to be so unlikable.”

“Never!” Merlin gasps, as if horrified by the idea, and tips his head back to kiss him.

Arthur chuckles, even though Merlin’s statement isn’t strictly true. They never sleep together in Merlin’s bedroom, and spend most nights together in Arthur’s, but at least once a week, Merlin spends the night in his own bed, and Arthur sleeps alone. He’s pretty sure he understands why this is the way it is, but he doesn’t ask. He has no interest in knowing for sure.

They still don’t have sex, and Arthur doesn’t press it. He has never been a particularly patient person, but Merlin is worth it, and he has gone longer than this without sex. It isn’t important enough to him to ruin what they have; he’s almost able to go back to how they were before he knew, and he isn’t alright with it, but he’s close. He’s working on it, because he promised Merlin he would.

Merlin scratches lightly at Arthur’s stomach, humming. “What are you thinking about? You’ve gone all quiet.”

“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?”

“You weren’t breathing your sleeping breaths,” he says easily, leaning up to press his lips to the corner of his mouth. “You were breathing your I’m-trying-to-be-very-quiet-so-I-can-think-thinky-thoughts breaths.”

“I am not thinking thinky thoughts.” Arthur laughs. “They’re just regular I’m-in-bed-with-Merlin thoughts.”

“Oh, those sound like fun thoughts.”

His heart leaps at the flirty tone. “Well, obviously.”

“I have fun I’m-in-bed-with-Arthur thoughts too,” Merlin says solemnly, nodding so that his cheek rubs against Arthur’s shoulder. “They’re How-lucky-am-I-to-be-in-bed-with-my-favorite-person thoughts.”

“I’m your favorite person?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions in bed, Arthur,” Merlin scolds, then wiggles around to squeeze his arms around him, kissing his neck. “Sleeping time now. I’m sprinkling sandman dust on you.”

“You are so weird.”

“You love it.”

“Yes, I do.”

***

Merlin’s bedroom door is closed.

Arthur notices that right away when he steps into the flat. He hangs his bag on the coat hook, and sets his keys down on the table by the door, carefully keeping his hand over them. He doesn’t know what to do. Should he stay? Pretend that when Merlin and whoever he’s with comes out, it’s completely normal for them to be there? Should he go?

This is new territory. Arthur has not been actively about the flat when Merlin’s had people over. He’s usually in lecture or at work or asleep. He swallows and takes up his keys again, moving carefully, and quietly, into his bedroom so he can change clothes. Maybe they could use him at work tonight. Someone almost always calls off, so perhaps he can fill in. And he could always use the money.

He leaves again, turning his key slowly in the lock, and sends Merlin a text message saying he picked up a shift. Even if he isn’t able to work, he figures it will be less awkward than the conversation they’ll have to have if he stays home.

It becomes routine rather quickly, because it seems that at least one of the people Merlin sleeps with is only available in the early evening lately. There’s a little bubble of hysterical laughter lodged at the base of his throat at the thought of Merlin keeping a _schedule_ for it all. He very carefully avoids thinking about how neat and organized Merlin’s sex life is, and how much it reminds him of prostitution. On his more bitter days, he thinks he’s living in a one-man brothel. Maybe Arthur himself is his manager, in this scenario, his pimp, as it were.

The thought makes him tired, so he writes a note to the scheduling manager at the bookstore to tell him that he’s available Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays in the evening for work, and that he would very much _like_ to work those nights, if they’ll allow it.

So he does. He’s working almost seven days a week, and spring is creeping along, the sun peeking out that little bit more each day. Arthur feels exams breathing against the back of his neck, and he tries not to think too much about how unprepared he is.

What time he doesn’t spend working is spent in the library, or in the corner of the coffee shop where Merlin works, letting his boyfriend top off his coffee without charge for hours at a time while he revises.

He feels drained every once in a while, and spends the time he should be preparing for exams or writing essays staring listlessly at the television, barely awake, until Merlin prods him from the cough and into bed after a cup of chamomile tea.

“You don’t smile much anymore,” Merlin comments one night as they sit across from each other at the coffee shop. Arthur has just taken a short break from studying to appease Merlin’s by shoving a chocolate chip muffin into his mouth. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a burnt-out matchstick by the time finals are over.”

Arthur manages a small smile, just for the satisfaction of proving to Merlin he still can. “Why aren’t you more stressed about them anyway?” he murmurs accusingly. “You have actual exams. I just have to write a lot.”

“I’m a genius,” Merlin says breezily. “You forget this. I wish I could help you with your exams. I’d take half of them for you if they’d let me. Take half your load.”

“I wish. I would love you forever if you did.”

“You’ll love me forever anyway.” Merlin pushes himself up and leans over to drop a kiss on his forehead. “I have to go back to work. Stay on till I’ve finished, alright? We’ll walk home together.”

***

“You look awful,” Morgana deadpans. She slides into the chair across from Arthur’s at the café.

Arthur pushes the iced tea he ordered her across the table. “Thanks, Morgana. You really make a guy feel good about himself.”

Morgana rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?”

“I sleep every night, believe it or not.” Arthur stirs his Coke with his straw, presses his fingers into his eyes in an attempt to make himself look more awake. “I’ve just been really busy. Work and all that. Plus exams around the corner.”

“Don’t remind me.” Morgana shudders. “All you youngsters are revising and no one is available to entertain me.”

“It’s not our fault you’re older than us. Pester Leon; he’s through with his degree as well.”

“Leon bores me.” Morgana waves her hand dismissively, bracelets jingling. “Why don’t you take fewer shifts, if you’re so tired from revising?”

Arthur flushes. “It gives me an opportunity to be away from the flat,” he murmurs. “Give Merlin some space.”

There is utter silence between them for almost a minute. Morgana stares at him, ink-blackened lashes barely fluttering. She takes a breath. “I see.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re judging me.”

“I’m not judging you. You’re judging you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, uncrosses her legs and crosses them again in the other direction. “Look. Whatever your reasons for working yourself most of the way to death, you need to give yourself a break. Why don’t you take a few days off work? You can crash in my guest room if you like.”

“I don’t need your guest room, Morgana. Everything’s _fine_.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Morgana snaps, loudly enough for the couple at the table next to them to jump. “It’s not fine that you are running yourself ragged because you can’t go home because your boyfriend is occupying the flat with his various fuck buddies.” She ignores the offended sound the same couple makes. “It’s not alright, Arthur.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” He shakes his head, mouth hanging open. “You’re the one who told me to give him another chance, Morgana! I’m taking your advice here. I’m being patient, and understanding. What do you want from me?”

“You can’t – Arthur, can’t you see that this is _killing_ you? You aren’t even actively thinking about it, but the hurt is taking such a toll on you. No matter how much you love him, or think you love him, you have to take care of yourself. You have to look after your own needs.”

She presses her lips together. “Arthur,” her voice is softer, less desperate, and she covers his hand. “Everything you’ve always done is to make other people happy. You remember what you did to make sure Uther still loved you, don’t you? You hid who you were, you pretended you were something you’re not. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore. You promised you’d do whatever it took to make sure you were happy, on your own terms.”

“I _am_ , Morgana.”

“You’re not. You’re doing whatever it takes to make _Merlin_ happy, and breaking your own heart in the process.” She sits back in her chair, scrapes her hair back. “This is classic Arthur, you know.”

Arthur sighs, passes a hand over his face. “What should I do, Morgana? If that’s what you think, what should I do about it?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But you’re not a saint, Arthur. You’re trying to make something work that most people can’t, that most people are too insecure to even try.” She squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to sacrifice this much for him. You don’t have to give so much of yourself.”

Arthur stares at their hands. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admits. “I’m in love with him. I want him in my life. I’ll do whatever I takes to keep him.”

Morgana sighs, leans back in her chair. She brings her tea to her lips, takes a long drink, looking at him over the rim of her glass. She sets it down firmly, twists it slightly in its wet ring on the table. “You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever known,” she says quietly. “I don’t understand how someone could not want to be the same for you.”

***

Merlin is clinking around in the kitchen, presumably making dinner, judging by the spicy scents emerging from that general direction, the sound of sizzling meat in a skittle. He wonders if he’s making huevos rancheros for dinner again in a breakfast-for-dinner thing. He does it whenever Arthur has had a particularly rough day, because it always cheers him up, according to Merlin. Arthur continuously insists that all it does is bring tears to his eyes, since Merlin never fails to make the salsa too spicy.

Still, it’s kind of him, and Arthur _is_ exhausted. He’s finally through with his final essays, and only has to survive two more exams. He doesn’t have it in him to work on the revision of either of them tonight, especially after his trying conversation with Morgana yesterday. His sister is so unhelpful, and so fickle. She seems to change her mind as often as she changes underwear, and he has no idea what he was supposed to take away from their discussion.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” she said. “Promise me you’ll at least try to consider what would make _you_ happy, if nothing else was even an object of consideration, if there were no factors except _you_. Please?”

He promised, but he still doesn’t know how that promise is supposed to help. Whenever he thinks about what will make him happy, he thinks of having Merlin forever. And that seems to be the problem, as far as he can tell.

“What are you watching?”

He blinks over at Merlin when he plops down on the couch and hooks their arms together. “Oh. I don’t know.”

Merlin chuckles. “You never seem to actually be _watching_ telly when you have it on, you know. You just sort of mindlessly stare at it. It’s like it completely turns off your brain.” He pauses. “I suppose that’s possible, really. They do say that television rots your brain.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The nameless public.” Merlin kisses his cheek. “You know how much power they have. Do you want a cup of tea? You have to stay awake long enough to eat dinner. You haven’t been eating enough lately.”

“I’ve been eating.”

“Yes, when I _make_ you eat. You know that doesn’t count.”

“In what way does that not count? I am still consuming food. I am still getting nutrients. It counts on every level, and I scoff at your attempts to make me think otherwise.”

Merlin pinches his arm, quirks his right eyebrow up. “You, sir, are avoiding the subject. Regardless if you _think_ you’re eating enough, I don’t think so, and we’re dating, and I made you dinner, so you have to eat it. You aren’t allowed to say no. Otherwise, I will give you the silent treatment.”

“I believe you are drawing from outdated and wholly incorrect ideas about what the ‘woman’ in a relationship has to be like.”

“I am indeed.”

“You do realize they don’t apply to our situation since we’re both men.”

“I realize that as well. You are still changing the subject, and I do not approve.”

Arthur laughs softly, letting his head tip back against the couch. “If it makes you feel better, you can make me a cup of tea.”

“It does make me feel better.” Merlin kisses his cheek and unfolds himself from the couch, retreating to the kitchen. He shuffles about, running water in the kettle and setting it out on the stove. It’s the kind of silence that settles heavy and harsh around them, smothering, and Arthur looks over at Merlin to see him looking back.

“What is it?”

Merlin startles him out of his daze, and he begins rummaging in the cabinets in search of mugs. He sets them down too hard on the counter before he answers. “What is what?”

“Why are you all tense and nervous all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. What’s up?”

Merlin licks his lips. “Let me make you a cup of tea,” he insists quietly. “Then we’ll talk.”

Arthur flushes cold at that, his stomach plummeting. He thinks about arguing, because how can he just sit quietly and wait when he knows what’s coming? Instead, he just nods and turns again to look at the TV.

The kettle whistles, and Merlin scoops it off the stove. He has the tendency sometimes to walk away from the kitchen in the morning when he begins his tea, and Arthur wakes up to the kettle positively screeching; when he goes out to the kitchen, it’s practically rocking in its place on the burner, hissing and spitting, and he has to use a potholder to take it off the stove.

He lets the thought fill his chest with affection, and for a moment, he forgets that Merlin is about to sit down beside him and tell him they should break up. When Merlin sets the mug down on the coffee table in front of him, perfectly prepared, because Merlin somehow always makes the best tea, he looks over at him with a smile and picks it up to take a drink. “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in response. He sips at his own tea for a long moment, before setting it carefully and deliberately down in front of him. He takes a deep breath and expels it through his nose. “I’ve been putting this off for a while,” he admits. “It’s – it’s difficult for me.”

Arthur falls quiet, looks down into the creamy depths of his tea. He taps the side with his index finger. “Can I ask why?”

Merlin’s eyebrows draw together. “Why it’s difficult for me?”

“No. I mean – why you’re breaking up with me. I thought – I’ve been trying really hard, to be understanding and everything, and to not be judgmental. I thought I was doing alright. Don’t get me wrong,” he says quickly, when Merlin starts to shake his head. “I’m not trying to talk you into keeping me around by promising to change or anything, if you’ve decided that it’s best if we go our separate ways – metaphorically of course; we do still live together. I just think I deserve to know why.”

“Of course you do,” Merlin says quietly, then shakes his head again. “I mean – of course you _would_ if that was the conversation I wanted to have with you.”

 _Oh._ “It’s not?”

“Of course not. You’re wonderful.” Merlin laughs softly, closing his hand around Arthur’s wrist and squeezing gently. “Not that the conversation we have to have is going to be very fun either, but it’s definitely not _that_. I can’t – I don’t want to lose you. That’s why what I have to say is so necessary.”

Arthur leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and after a moment, sets his mug down too. “Alright. I’m all ears.”

Merlin twists his mouth up. “You’re not happy,” he blurts out, then looks down at his hands, twisting them together. “I’m not – I’m not making you happy. I haven’t been for a long time. Maybe ever since we got back together.”

Arthur frowns, shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is though. You don’t smile at me anymore.” He touches his fingertip to the corner of Arthur’s mouth, almost like he’s going to push it upwards himself. He drops his hand into his lap, peers somewhat anxiously into Arthur’s face. “You don’t – we don’t sleep together anymore. You don’t let me come to your bed.”

That’s true. They haven’t slept together in a long time. Arthur thought it was on purpose on Merlin’s part, that he was choosing not to come. “I thought you’ve just… had company,” Arthur says carefully, unsure of how to broach that topic, because they’ve so carefully avoided it up to this point. As far as he’s concerned, they could keep avoiding it for the rest of their lives, and he would be just fine with it.

“No. Well, sometimes. I just – I didn’t think I was welcome anymore.” Merlin pulls his legs up onto the couch, tucks his chin over one of his knees.

Something stabs Arthur sharply between the ribs. “You’re _always_ welcome, Merlin. That’s never – that’s never an issue or anything. You could sleep in my bed every night if you wanted. You could call it _our_ bed if you wanted. I would love to have you all the time.”

Merlin licks his lips, smiling carefully. “You used to – when I came to bed after you, you’d leave the corner of the blanket turned down on the right side of the bed, and you’d crack the door, so that I’d know I could come in if I wanted. You don’t do that anymore.”

Arthur didn’t even realize he was doing that in the first place. “I’m sorry. I’ll remember from now on.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Merlin pushes himself up onto his knees, then swings a leg over to straddle his lap. He cups his face, draws him up to him for a kiss. “You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you beautiful man. You’re wonderful.”

Arthur must look as confused as he feels, because Merlin sighs a little and rests their foreheads and noses together, his eyes closed. When he pulls back again, his expression is serious. “I’m ready to explain to you,” he says firmly. “You know how you asked me before, about explaining to you about… everything. The sleeping around and everything. I’m ready to explain it now.”

Arthur sighs. “You don’t have to, Merlin.”

“I do,” Merlin insists. “It’s important to me. Alright?”

“Yes. Alright.”

He nods, swallows hard. “Alright. When I – I mean. When I was younger, I really, really liked having sex. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I think most teenagers are like that. And I was always safe about it, and only ever did it with people I trusted and – well, I don’t really need to justify it; that’s not the point of this.

“At some point, I began to think that the easiest way for me to show people how much I care about them was to sleep with them. It was fun for all parties involved, and it was simple. It sort of kept people around. And maybe at some point, that stopped being enough, the having people around just because I slept with them. I started feeling like… they were only sticking around because of that. I know that’s probably not true,” he says quickly, when Arthur opens his mouth to comment. “It’s just how it felt.

“And when you asked me out, it seemed so – I mean, everyone else took the sex as a bit of a given, being friends with me. When you wanted _more_ , I was so elated, Arthur. And I realized that whether I slept with you or not, you weren’t going anywhere. And maybe I loved that so much, and was so spoiled by that that I took you for granted a bit, and thought it was okay to continue on with everyone else.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure how he should respond. It all seems rather a lot to take in, even with what he already knew about the situation. Hearing it from Merlin’s mouth stings, but also gives him some kind of strange hope. “So why are you telling me this now?” he asks quietly, meeting his eye.

Merlin rubs his thumbs over Arthur’s cheekbones. “It’s not fun anymore,” he admits. “It’s not something that I’m doing with friends that’s fun for both of us and keeps us close. I mean, it’s probably still fun for them, but – it feels like I have to do it, to keep my friends interested in being my friends.”

“You know that’s not true, Merlin.”

“I do,” he assures him. “But that’s how it’s begun to feel, like I’m kind of bribing them, and that’s not why I started doing it in the first place, and that’s not why I want to do it now. These people love me, and I know that. I know that even if we’re _just_ friends, and don’t sleep with me, they’re going to stay with me.”

“Of course they are.”Arthur rubs his knuckles along Merlin’s jaw.

Merlin tilts his head to leave fleeting kisses on his fingers. “And if I keep sleeping with them, you’re _not_ going to stay with me.”

“That’s not –”

“It is though. You’re going to resent me instead of loving me, and I want you to love me, Arthur, because I’m beginning to think I love you.” He takes a deep breath, as if he’s just broken surface. “And someday, I want sex to be something I can have especially with you, because as much fun as it is with other people, I don’t love them.” He bites his lip. “I’d loathe myself a lot less if I was having sex with people because I like sex, and not hurting you in the process. I knew I was hurting you and I thought because you said it was okay, that it was okay to continue. I’m sorry.”

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together. “Merlin…”

“So I’ve told them all I’m not going to sleep with them anymore.” He pauses. “Leon told me you’re too good for me, you know, because of all this. I sort of agree with him.” He curls his hand around Arthur’s, brings it to his mouth again. “Let me be good to you, yeah? Let me fix it.”

Arthur is nodding before Merlin finishes the question. “Merlin, I – yes, of course. Yes. I want – I just want to be with you. I would have taken anything you gave me, you have to know that. Thank you.”

Merlin’s face darkens slightly, and he presses a firm kiss to Arthur’s mouth. “You have to make me a promise though.” He searches his eyes for a long moment. “You have to promise me that you will stop putting yourself, and your happiness, aside for other people. You cannot let me be happy at your expense.” He shakes his head. “I have no interest in being happy at the expense of your happiness. That would just be the worst thing, to make someone as wonderful as you unhappy. I’ve been doing that long enough.”

Arthur’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “I’ve been doing that for a very long time. You might have to be a bit patient with me.”

“You’ve lived with me for a while now. You know how patient I can be.” He kisses him again.

***

“Merlin!” Arthur calls his name, jogs over to him. He hitches his bag up on his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a lecture?”

“I’ve skipped it!” Merlin says proudly and presents a picnic basket. “You’re done for the afternoon. I’ve checked your schedule. And because you’re done, we’re going to have a picnic. I’ve made egg salad sandwiches. They’re your favorite this month; you’ve ordered them every time we’ve gone to the café.”

Arthur shakes his head, bewildered, and slings an arm around his shoulders as they head off. “How could you possibly have noticed that?”

“I’m rather observant.” Merlin pats the side of his nose. “Besides, I’m always paying attention to what you eat. I like to cook for you.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“And because egg salad recipes only come in servings of like, a thousand, we have enough for you to eat egg salad until you’re pretty much sweating it.”

“Well, that’s a charming visual.”

“Ah, but has it put you off egg salad?”

“Not in the least.”

“Then it was a succinct one.” Merlin beams at him.

At the park, Merlin unpacks his overstuffed bag in the shade of a large oak tree, laying out a blanket and anchoring a football against a root. “In case you wanted to play later,” he says by way of explanation.

“You hate football.”

“I do not. What a heinous accusation. I’m just no good at it. You’ll have to give me some instruction.”

“Gladly.”

Arthur does his best, but he’s not sure he has any success at all. Merlin manages to do more tripping over the ball than anything. But he’s fast, and Arthur is out of breath by the time they both collapse on the blanket, lying out on their backs.

“Thank you for this, Merlin.”

“Mmm.” Merlin wiggles over to him, curling up against his side, his head tucked up under his chin. “For what?”

“For this. The picnic. The dinner you made me last night. Bowling last weekend. I just – thank you, for all the attention. It’s very lovely, and I feel very… loved.”

“You are,” Merlin confirms, tracing a pattern on the inside of his wrist with his fingertip. “You’re so loved. I’m trying to show you how much, so you don’t ever have reason to doubt it again, or to ever look unhappy again. I’m trying to make it up to you, for being so negligent these past few months. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

“You’ve given me everything I want.” Arthur curls his arms around him, kisses the top of his head.

Merlin pushes himself up onto his elbows over him, toying with his hair for a moment. “You’re going to be the happiest man in the world when I’m done with you,” he decides, then dips his head to press their mouths together.

Arthur slides a hand up to the back of his head, sliding his fingers into his hair. He lets Merlin lick his way past his lips, their tongues pressing together. Merlin tips his head to the side, fitting their mouths together more fully, and Arthur’s bones go liquid.

He’s still getting used to this. It’s not as if he and Merlin have never kissed, or been affectionate, but this attention, focused fully on him, is overwhelming; it makes him squirm, makes him itch under his skin. Merlin has lavished him with this kind of intense focus, and he tries to take it, soak it in, as much as he can.

“You act like this is the last time I’m ever going to touch you,” Merlin teased last week, when they had been tangled up on the couch, kissing and touching, slow and easy. “Like you’re trying to catalog everything.”

Arthur flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m not – how would you like me to do this?”

Merlin’s shoulders curved down, an avalanche, and his whole face dipped into his frown. “Arthur,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I like this. I like everything we’ve done, and I know it hasn’t been a lot, recently, but I love every ounce of attention you give to me. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. _I’m_ sorry, that I’ve made you feel like this. Christ, I’m lucky you still even want to be with me after all I’ve put you through.” He kissed him again, lightly. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll get used to each other. Just because we’re completely exclusive doesn’t mean we have to rush things.”

And they haven’t. They don’t. Arthur appreciates it, but it also makes him feel ashamed, like Merlin is being so patient with him, waiting for him, and he’s holding them back. He tried to make it clear to Merlin that he can decide when they become intimate again, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Merlin is waiting until he thinks Arthur is ready. And that’s fine, except that Arthur feels ready. It’s not as if he’s some blushing virgin who hasn’t done this before; he knows that he could enjoy a sexual relationship with him _right now_ if Merlin would only let him.

Still, patience is his greatest talent, and Merlin is worth being patient for.

Merlin giggles against his mouth and pulls away. “You taste like mayonnaise.”

“Must be all the egg salad.”

“Clearly.” He kisses him again. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I’ve had fun.”

“Thank you for making me lunch. You’re sunburned.” Arthur runs his fingers lightly over the pink dusting Merlin’s nose and the apples of his cheeks. “We should have gotten some sun lotion on you.”

“Hindsight.”

“It’s 20/20, for sure.”

The sun begins to set, and Arthur notices with the drooping of his eyelids that they’ve been out in the sunshine for hours. Merlin tugs at a strand of his hair. “No falling asleep in the park,” he murmurs fondly. “Let’s go home.”

***

Arthur steps into the apartment and into a smell so intense that he has to pause to take a deep breath. “What are you cooking?” he asks, toeing his shoes off and wandering in the direction of the kitchen.

Merlin tilts his head up so Arthur can drop a kiss on his cheek. “Shepherd’s pie in the oven. You’re once again not eating enough so I decided to make you dinner.”

“I’m doing my best. I’m just so tired after work.” Arthur slides his arms around Merlin’s waist, hooks his chin over his shoulder, surveying the countertop. “And lemon squares?”

“Yes, but they won’t be ready to eat until tomorrow. You’ll have to wait. Go sit down; I’ll make you some tea.”

Arthur plops down in a stool at the island, watching Merlin work. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know. I appreciate it, a lot; I really do. But it’s a lot of effort to make for me, and I know you have better things you could be doing.”

“You’re my boyfriend, and I’d rather you not die from malnutrition. Besides, I like doing this for you.”

“You work so hard all the time,” Arthur argues. “I know your coursework is difficult; I’ve sat with you while you worked on it. Plus, you work at the coffee shop. Why would you want to add more to your plate?”

“Arthur.” Merlin sighs, sets down the spoon he was using to stir his ingredients. “You are trying, for the first time in your life, to completely support yourself. I’ve done it all my life, helping my mum out and earning my own spending money. I know how to juggle all this. You don’t. You’re just learning, and I’m proud of you for that, and I admire you for it.”

Arthur is oddly touched. “Thank you, Merlin. But I don’t see -”

“Shut up.” Merlin threatens him affectionately with the spoon. “Everyone needs help sometimes. Morgana helps you out by buying you lunch once a week and insisting on taking you shopping for new clothes when you got promoted. I can help you by making you dinner every once in a while. Besides, I like doing it. It’s an enjoyable process for me, and I want to do it. So let me.”

“Thank you.” Arthur smiles a little helplessly at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly. I couldn’t have asked for a better flatmate.”

Merlin leans across the counter to kiss him. “No, you couldn’t.”

He serves dinner twenty minutes later, and sits with his arm around Arthur’s waist. They talk about their days while they eat, and Merlin leans his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder every once in a while, like he can’t quite stand to be too far from him, and after they do the washing up, they curl up on the couch for a while to digest, watching some TV movie.

“Merlin?”

“Hm?”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Merlin noses gently at Arthur’s jaw. “Anything.”

“Why were you alright with sleeping with me before we started dating? I mean. Why then and not after?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, rubbing his thumb against the inside of Arthur’s wrist. “I have this backwards sort of problem,” he admits. “I always imagine that if someone wants to be with me, romantically, that they’ll be okay with not having sex.” He wraps his arms around Arthur’s middle, presses his lips to his pulse point. “I thought, if you wanted to be with me, you would stay. And you did. You were so patient, and kind, and you didn’t pressure me or ask questions, even though you probably wanted to.” He swallows. “I didn’t even realize how I was making you feel until you told me I should’ve just told you I wasn’t attracted to you. I couldn’t fathom how you took that away from our relationship, but it makes sense. I was letting everyone have me but you. How else could that have looked?

“What it came down to is that you made – make – me feel safe. I never got the impression, or had the fear, that you were going to leave me, even if we stopped being lovers, even if we were just friends. I was sure I’d have you forever. I didn’t feel like I had to coerce you into staying. Does this make sense?” Arthur nods, and Merlin smiles. “And for the record, I find you incredibly attractive. You’re the sexiest person I know.”

Arthur blushes at that, smiling down at his lap. “Even sexier than Gwaine?”

“Well, he does have glorious hair.”

“He really does.”

“But not even Gwaine is sexier than you. Even he says so.”

“Does he really?”

“No. He says, ‘If I had to say someone else was as sexy as me, it would be Arthur.’ True story.”

“Was he drunk?”

“Of course.”

Arthur laughs. “Well, you only speak the truth when drunk.”

“Obviously. Now let’s go to bed.”

***

In the end, it’s not a very special night, when it happens.

Business was slow at the bookstore, so Arthur is home early from work. Merlin has taken over the coffee table in the living room and has his earbuds in. His textbooks and notebooks and papers are scattered on the table, in some semblance of order as he revises for his last, and most important, exam of the term.

Arthur tried to help him revise the night before, by quizzing him with organic chemistry flash cards, but when he couldn’t quite pronounce most of the words, Merlin released him, thanking him for trying.

Since he’s not much help with the exam preparation itself, Arthur is going to make the rest of the evening easy for him and so decides to make him dinner. It takes him half an hour, and it’s nothing fancy, but he sets a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him with a cup of tea.

“Take a break,” he suggests, sitting down next to him. “You need to stay fuelled if you want to get through all your material.”

Merlin pulls his earbuds out and slings them around his neck, smiling gratefully at him. “You made spaghetti. I love spaghetti. Thank you.”

Arthur chuckles. “You say it like I made you a gourmet dinner.”

“You may as well have. Seriously, thank you. This is great.” He kisses his cheek.

Arthur squeezes his leg and leaves him to his work, puttering around the kitchen. He takes Merlin’s plate when he’s finished, and refreshes his tea, and does the washing up before retreating to their bedroom to read and relax, letting Merlin focus on his work without any distractions.

He stays up for two hours longer than he usually does, waiting for Merlin to come to bed. When he doesn’t, he finally sets his book aside and turns off the light.

He’s just starting to doze, when the door creaks open, flooding the room with the soft orange light from the lamp Merlin likes to leave on in the living room at night. He closes it tightly behind him, only to turn on the lamp beside the bed, effectively startling Arthur more thoroughly awake.

“Merlin?” he murmurs, leaning up on his elbows and rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “What’re you doing?”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, just steps out of his clothes and climbs onto the bed, straddling Arthur’s lap. He cups his face in his hands, drawing him up to kiss him firmly.

Arthur pushes himself up, sliding his hand into Merlin’s hair, his other arm hooking around his waist. He’s not sure what exactly he should be expecting right now, but having Merlin naked in his arms seems to be leading in one direction, particularly when Merlin shifts onto his knees and urges Arthur out of his boxers.

It’s all very slow. It seems like Merlin touches every part of him with his fingers and lips and tongue before lying out on his back and letting Arthur slide his fingers into him, opening him up. Arthur takes his time too. Merlin stares up at him with eyes that look almost bewildered, and keeps his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, like he’s anchoring himself in this moment.

“Are you alright?” Arthur murmurs, dips his head to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Yes. Of course.” Merlin smiles at him, slides his fingers into his hair and draws him in to kiss him again. He arches up with a little whimper. “Alright, let’s – please.”

He helps Arthur roll on the condom, and then pulls him in to settle between his legs. When he first pushes into him, Merlin presses his fingers tight against Arthur’s shoulder blades, his leg hooking up against his hip.

Arthur kisses his way along the sharp line of his cheekbone, rocking his hips slowly, in a far steadier way than he thought he would. The tense line of Merlin’s shoulders and spine begin to relax, and he lets his hands wander, stroking over the dips and cuts of Arthur’s chest, the swells of his arms.

Arthur can’t stop kissing him, nuzzling in against his neck and pressing his mouth to his throat, to his collarbones and shoulders. He would love to take the time to thoroughly learn his body with his mouth alone, to see what he could coax from his quiet lover if he’s very patient.

Merlin’s thighs press tight to Arthur’s hips, drawing him in and pinning him there, his arms winding around his shoulders. Arthur anchors himself with one arm pressed to the sheets, pressing his other hand under Merlin’s knee, holding him still as he pushes harder, faster. Merlin’s breaths pick up speed as well, coming out almost voiced, little gasps that make Arthur lightheaded.

He’s barely embarrassed when he comes first. It’s enough to make his shoulders go rigid, his muscles seizing all the way down his back, and he goes completely breathless for what feels like several minutes. Merlin is terribly patient, murmuring against his ear, his fingers ghosting along his spine in soothing little pets.

“Sorry,” Arthur laughs, nosing against his cheek and reaching down to curl his hand around Merlin’s cock. He strokes him firmly, pressing his thumb in wet circles around the tip.

“Don’t be.” Merlin presses up into his hand, his hands sliding down to press against the back of Arthur’s thighs, preventing him from pulling out. “I liked it.” He lets out a little mewl of satisfaction when he finishes, practically writhing with it, and the sight of him is enough to stir a little spark of arousal in Arthur’s belly again.

He discards the condom, and Merlin reaches for tissues to clean them both up. They’re quiet, and Merlin wiggles in close to Arthur, tugging at his hands until he wraps his arms around him. He nuzzles against his chest, radiating contentment as Arthur pulls the sheet up around them.

They lay there for a long time, boneless, their fingers moving absently on each other’s skin. Arthur presses a kiss to Merlin’s hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Merlin’s voice is hazy, edged with sleep. “Of course.”

“Why now? I mean. Why tonight?”

He’s quiet for long enough that Arthur thinks he’s fallen asleep, and has almost resigned himself to waiting until morning, when his answer comes: “It was about time, don’t you think?”

Arthur has to agree.  



End file.
